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THE   EVE 


OF    THE 


FRENCH   REVOLUTION 


BY 


EDWARD  J.  LOWELL 

AUTHOR   OF  "the    HESSIANS   AND   THE   OTHER    GERMAN    AUXIUARIBS 
OF  GREAT   BRITAIN  IN  THE  REVOLUTIONARY  WAR  " 


BOSTON    AND    NEW    YORK 

HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND   COMPANY 

(2E6e  MitoersiUe  \Brm,  (CamliriD0e 


PREFACE. 


There  are  two  ways  in  which  the  French  Eevolution 
may  be  considered.  We  may  look  at  the  great  events 
which  astonished  and  horrified  Europe  and  America :  the 
storming  of  the  Bastille,  the  march  on  Versailles,  the 
massacres  of  September,  the  Terror,  and  the  restoration 
of  order  by  Napoleon.  The  study  of  these  events  must 
always  be  both  interesting  and  profitable,  and  we  cannot 
wonder  that  historians,  scenting  the  approaching  battle, 
have  sometimes  hurried  over  the  comparatively  peaceful 
country  that  separated  them  from  it.  They  have  accepted 
easy  and  ready  -  made  solutions  for  the  cause  of  the 
trouble.  Old  France  has  been  lurid  in  their  eyes,  in  the 
light  of  her  burning  country  -  houses.  The  Frenchmen 
of  the  eighteenth  century,  they  think,  must  have  been 
wretches,  or  they  could  not  so  have  suffered.  The  social 
fabric,  they  are  sure,  was  rotten  indeed,  or  it  would  never 
have  gone  to  pieces  so  suddenly. 

There  is,  however,  another  way  of  looking  at  that  great 
revolution  of  which  we  habitually  set  the  beginning  in 
1789.  That  date  is,  indeed,  momentous;  more  so  than 
any  other  in  modern  history.  It  marks  the  outbreak  in 
legislation  and  politics  of  ideas  which  had  already  been 
working  for  a  century,  and  which  have  changed  the  face 
of  the  civilized  world.     These  ideas  are  not  all  true  nor 


-Vi  PREFACE. 

all  noble.  They  have  in  them  a  large  admixture  of  spec- 
ulative error  and  of  spiritual  baseness.  They  require 
to-day  to  be  modified  and  readjusted.  But  they  repre- 
sent sides  of  truth  which  in  1789,  and  still  more  in 
1689,  were  too  much  overlooked  and  neglected.  They 
suited  the  stage  of  civilization  which  the  world  had 
reached,  and  men  needed  to  emphasize  them.  Their  very 
exaggeration  was  perhaps  necessary  to  enable  them  to 
fight,  and  in  a  measure  to  supplant,  the  older  doctrines 
which  were  in  possession  of  the  human  mind.  Induction, 
as  the  sole  method  of  reasoning,  sensation  as  tM  sole 
origin  of  ideas,  may  not  be  the  final  and  only  truth ;  but 
they  were  very  much  needed  in  the  world  in  the  seven- 
teenth and  eighteenth  centuries,  and  they  found  philoso- 
phers to  elaborate  them,  and  enthusiasts  to  preach  them. 
They  made  their  way  chiefly  on  French  soil  in  the  de- 
cades preceding  1789. 

The  history  of  French  society  at  that  time  has  of  late 
years  attracted  much  attention  in  France.  Diligent 
scholars  have  studied  it  from  many  sides.  I  have  used 
their  work  freely,  and  acknowledgment  will  be  found  in 
the  foot-notes ;  but  I  cannot  resist  the  pleasure  of  men- 
tioning in  this  preface  a  few  of  those  to  whom  - 1  am  most 
indebted;  and  first  M.  Albert  Babeau,  without  whose 
careful  researches  several  chapters  of  this  book  could 
hardly  have  been  written.  His  studies  in  archives,  as 
well  as  in  printed  memoirs  and  travels,  have  brought 
much  of  the  daily  life  of  old  France  into  the  clearest 
light.  He  has  in  an  eminent  degree  the  great  and 
thoroughly  French  quality  of  telling  us  what  we  want 
to  know.     His  impartiality  rivals  his  lucidity,  while  his 


PREFACE.  Vll 

thoroughness  is  such  that  it  is  hard  gleaning  the  old 
fields  after  him. 

Hardly  less  is  my  indebtedness  to  the  late  M.  Aime 
Cherest,  whose  unfinished  work,  "La  Chute  de  I'ancien 
regime,"  gives  the  most  interesting  and  philosophical 
narrative  of  the  later  political  events  preceding  the  meet- 
ing of  the  Estates  General.  To  the  great  names  of  de 
Tocqueville  and  of  Taine  I  can  but  render  a  passing  hom- 
age. The  former  may  be  said  to  have  opened  the  modern 
mind  to  the  proper  method  of  studying  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury in  France,  the  latter  is,  perhaps,  the  most  brilliant  of 
writers  on  the  subject;  and  no  one  has  recently  written, 
or  will  soon  write,  about  the  time  when  the  Kevolution 
was  approaching  without  using  the  books  of  both  of 
them.  And  I  must  not  forget  the  works  of  the  Vicomte 
de  Broc,  of  M.  Boiteau,  and  of  M.  Rambaud,  to  which  I 
have  sometimes  turned  for  suggestion  or  confirmation. 

Passing  to  another  branch  of  the  subject,  I  gladly 
acknowledge  my  debt  to  the  Right  Honorable  John  Mor- 
ley.  Differing  from  him  in  opinion  almost  wherever  it  is 
possible  to  have  an  opinion,  I  have  yet  found  him  thor- 
oughly fair  and  accurate  in  matters  of  fact.  His  books 
on  Voltaire,  Rousseau,  and  the  Encyclopaedists,  taken 
together,  form  the  most  satisfactory  history  of  French 
philosophy  in  the  eighteenth  century  with  which  I  am 
acquainted. 

Of  the  writers  of  monographs,  and  of  the  biographers,  I 
will  not  speak  here  in  detail,  although  some  of  their  books 
have  been  of  very  great  service  to  me.  Such  are  those 
of  M.  Bailly,  M.  de  Lavergne,  M.  Horn,  M.  Stourm, 
and  M.  Charles  Gomel,  on  the  financial  history  of  France; 


Vlll  PREFACE. 

M.  de  Poncins  and  M.  Desjardins,  on  the  cahiers;  M. 
Rocquain  on  the  revokitionary  spirit  before  the  revolution, 
the  Comte  de  Lu9ay  and  M.  de  Lavergne,  on  the  min- 
isterial power  and  on  the  provincial  assemblies  and  es- 
tates; M.  Desnoiresterres,  on  Voltaire;  M.  Scherer,  on 
Diderot;  M.  de  Lomenie,  on  Beaumarchais ;  and  many 
others;  and  if,  after  all,  it  is  the  old  writers,  the  contem- 
poraries, on  whom  I  have  most  relied,  without  the  assist- 
ance of  these  modern  writers  I  certainly  could  not  have 
found  them  all. 

In  treating  of  the  Philosophers  and  other  writers  of  the 
eighteenth  century  I  have  not  endeavored  to  give  an 
abridgment  of  their  books,  but  to  explain  such  of  their 
doctrines  as  seemed  to  me  most  important  and  influential. 
This  I  have  done,  where  it  was  possible,  in  their  own  lan- 
guage. I  have  quoted  where  I  could ;  and  in  many  cases 
where  quotation  marks  will  not  be  found,  the  only  changes 
from  the  actual  expression  of  the  author,  beyond  those 
inevitable  in  translation,  have  been  the  transference  from 
direct  to  oblique  speech,  or  some  other  trifling  alterations 
rendered  necessary  in  my  judgment  by  the  exigencies  of 
grammar.  On  the  other  hand,  I  have  tried  to  translate 
ideas  and  phrases  rather  than  words. 

Edward  J.  LowelLo 

June  24,  1892. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  FAOB 

Introduction 1 

I.   The  King  and  the  Administration       ....  4 

II.   Louis  XVI.  and  his  Court 11 

III.  The  Clergy 25 

IV.  The  Church  and  her  Adversaries    ....  40 
V.  The  Church  and  Voltaire 51 

VI.   The  Nobility 70 

VII.   The  Army 83 

Vin.  The  Courts  of  Law 103 

IX.   Equality  and  Liberty 119 

X.  Montesquieu 126 

XI.   Paris 154 

XII.   The  Provincial  Towns 175 

Xm.   The  Country 18G 

XIV.    Taxation 207 

XV.   Finance 230 

XVI.    "The  :Encyclop^dia " 243 

XVII.   Helvetius,  Holbach,  and  Chastellux  .        .        .        .261 

XVIII.  Rousseau's  Political  Writings 274 

XIX.    "La  Nouvelle  Heloise  "  and  "Emile"       .        .        .  303 

XX.  The  Pamphlets 322 

XXI.   The  Cahiers 342 

XXII.  Social  and  Econorucal  Matters  in  the  Cahiers    .      359 
XXIII.  Conclusion 377 

Index  of  Editions  cited 389 

Index 399 


THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH 
REVOLUTION. 


INTRODUCTION. 


It  is  characteristic  of  the  European  family  of  nations, 
as  distinguished  from  the  other  great  divisions  of  man- 
kind, that  among  them  different  ideals  of  government  and 
of  life  arise  from  time  to  time,  and  that  before  the  whole 
of  a  coromunity  has  entirely  adopted  one  set  of  principles, 
the  more  advanced  thinkers  are  already  passing  on  to 
another.  Throughout  the  western  part  of  continental  Eu- 
rope, from  the  sixteenth  to  the  eighteenth  century,  abso- 
lute monarchy  was  superseding  feudalism;  and  in  France 
the  victory  of  the  newer  over  the  older  system  was  es- 
pecially thorough.  Then,  suddenly,  although  not  quite 
without  warning,  a  third  system  was  brought  face  to  face 
with  the  two  others.  Democracy  was  born  full-grown  and 
defiant.  It  appealed  at  once  to  two  sides  of  men's  minds, 
to  pure  reason  and  to  humanity.  Why  should  a  few  men 
be  allowed  to  rule  a  great  multitude  as  deserving  as  them- 
selves? Why  should  the  mass  of  mankind  lead  lives  fuU 
of  labor  and  sorrow?  These  questions  are  difficult  to 
answer.  The  Philosophers  of  the  eighteenth  century  pro- 
nounced them  unanswerable.  They  did  not  in  all  cases 
advise  the  establishment  of  democratic  government  as  a 
cure  for  the  wrongs  which  they  saw  in  the  world.  But 
they  attacked  the  things  that  were,  proposing  other  things, 
more  or  less  practicable,  in  their  places.  It  seemed  to 
these  men  no  very  difficult  task  to  reconstitute  society  and 


^A  THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

civilization,  if  only  the  faulty  arrangements  of  the  past 
could  be  done  away.  They  believed  that  men  and  things 
might  be  governed  by  a  few  simple  laws,  obvious  and 
uniform.  These  natural  laws  they  did  not  make  any  great 
effort  to  discover;  they  rather  took  them  for  granted; 
and  while  they  disagreed  in  their  statement  of  principles, 
they  still  believed  their  principles  to  be  axiomatic.  They 
therefore  undertook  to  demolish  simultaneously  all  estab- 
lished things  which  to  their  minds  did  not  rest  on  absolute 
logical  right.  They  bent  themselves  to  their  task  with  ar- 
dent faith  and  hope. 

The  larger  number  of  people,  who  had  been  living 
quietly  in  the  existing  order,  were  amused  and  interested. 
The  attacks  of  the  Philosophers  seemed  to  them  just  in 
many  cases,  the  reasoning  conclusive.  But  in  their  hearts 
they  could  not  believe  in  the  reality  and  importance  of 
the  assault.  Some  of  those  most  interested  in  keeping 
the  world  as  it  was,  honestly  or  frivolously  joined  in  the 
cry  for  reform  and  for  destruction. 

At  last  an  attempt  was  made  to  put  the  new  theories 
into  practice.  The  social  edifice,  slowly  constructed 
through  centuries,  to  meet  the  various  needs  of  different 
generations,  began  to  tumble  about  the  astonished  ears  of 
its  occupants.  Then  all  who  recognized  that  they  had 
something  at  stake  in  civilization  as  it  existed  were  star- 
tled and  alarmed.  Believers  in  the  old  reliofion,  in  old 
forms  of  government,  in  old  manners  and  morals,  men  in 
fear  for  their  heads  and  men  in  fear  for  their  estates,  were 
driven  together.  Absolutism  and  aristocracy,  although 
entirely  opposed  to  each  other  in  principle,  were  forced 
into  an  unnatural  alliance.  From  that  day  to  this,  the 
history  of  the  world  has  been  largely  made  up  of  the 
contests  of  the  supporters  of  the  new  ideas,  resting  on 
natural  law  and  on  logic,  with  those  of  the  older  forms 
of  thought  and  customs  of  life,  having  their  sanctions  in 
experience. 


INTRODUCTION.  6 

It  was  in  France  that  the  long  struggle  began  and  took 
its  form.  It  is  therefore  interesting  to  consider  the  gov- 
ernment of  that  country,  and  its  material  and  moral  con- 
dition, at  the  time  when  the  new  ideas  first  became  prom- 
inent and  forced  their  way  toward  fulfiUment. 

It  is  seldom  in  the  time  of  the  generation  in  which  they 
are  propounded  that  new  theories  of  life  and  its  relations 
bear  their  full  fruit.  Only  those  doctrines  which  a  man 
learns  in  his  early  youth  seem  to  him  so  completely  cer- 
tain as  to  deserve  to  be  pushed  nearly  to  their  last  con- 
clusions. The  Frenchman  of  the  reign  of  Louis  XV. 
listened  eagerly  to  Voltaire,  Montesquieu  and  Kousseau. 
Their  descendants,  in  the  time  of  his  grandson,  first  at- 
tempted to  apply  the  ideas  of  those  teachers.  While  I 
shall  endeavor  in  this  book  to  deal  with  social  and  political 
conditions  existing  in  the  reign  of  Louis  XVI.,  I  shall 
be  obliged  to  turn  to  that  of  his  predecessor  for  the  origin 
of  French  thoughts  which  acted  only  in  the  last  quarter  of 
the  century. 


CHAPTER   I. 
THE  KING  AND  THE  ADMINISTKATION. 

When  Louis  XVI.  came  to  the  throne  in  the  year 
1774,  he  inherited  a  power  nearly  absolute  in  theory  over 
all  the  temporal  affairs  of  his  kingdom.  In  certain  parts 
of  the  country  the  old  assemblies  or  Provincial  Estates  still 
met  at  fixed  times,  but  their  functions  were  very  closely 
limited.  The  Parliaments^  or  high  courts  of  justice,  which 
had  claimed  the  right  to  impose  some  check  on  legislation, 
had  been  browbeaten  by  Louis  XIV.,  and  the  principal 
one,  that  of  Paris,  had  been  dissolved  by  his  successor. 
The  young  king  appeared,  therefore,  to  be  left  face  to 
face  with  a  nation  over  which  he  was  to  exercise  direct 
and  despotic  power.  It  was  a  recognized  maxim  that  the 
royal  will  was  law.^  Moreover,  for  more  than  two  cen- 
turies, the  tendency  of  continental  governments  had  been 
toward  absolutism.  Among  the  great  desires  of  men  in 
those  ages  had  been  organization  and  strong  government. 
A  despotism  was  considered  more  favorable  to  these  things 
than  an  aristocracy.  Democracy  existed  as  yet  only  in 
the  dreams  of  philosophers,  the  history  of  antiquity,  and 
the  example  of  a  few  inconsiderable  countries,  like  the 
Swiss  cantons.  It  was  soon  to  be  brought  into  greater 
prominence  by  the  American  Kevolution.  As  yet,  how- 
ever, the  French  nation  looked  hopefully  to  the  king  for 
government,  and  for  such  measures  of  reform  as  were 
deemed  necessary.  A  king  of  France  who  had  reigned 
justly  and  strongly  would  have  received  the  moral  support 
of  the  most  respectable  part  of  his  subjects.  These  longed 
1  Si  veut  le  roi,  si  veut  la  loi. 


THE   KING   AND   THE   ADMINISTRATION.  5 

for  a  fair  distribution  of  public  burdens  and  for  freedom 
from  unnecessary  restraint,  rather  than  for  a  share  in  the 
government.  The  admiration  for  the  English  constitu- 
tion, which  was  commonly  expressed,  was  as  yet  rather 
theoretic  than  practical,  and  was  not  of  a  nature  to  de- 
tract from  the  loyalty  undoubtedly  felt  for  the  French 
crown. 

Every  monarch,  however  despotic  in  theory,  is  in  fact 
surrounded  by  many  barriers  which  it  takes  a  strong  man 
to  overleap.  And  so  it  was  with  the  king  of  France. 
Although  he  was  the  fountain  of  justice,  his  judicial 
powers  were  exercised  through  magistrates  many  of  whom 
had  bought  their  places,  and  could  therefore  not  be  dis- 
possessed without  measures  that  were  felt  to  be  vmjust 
and  almost  revolutionary.  The  breaking  up  of  the  Par- 
liament of  Paris,  in  the  latter  years  of  the  preceding 
reign,  had  thrown  the  whole  body  of  judges  and  lawyers 
into  a  state  of  discontent  bordering  on  revolt.  The  new 
court  of  justice  which  had  superseded  the  old  one,  the 
Parlement  Maupeou  as  it  was  called,  after  the  name  of 
the  chancellor  who  had  advised  its  formation,  was  neither 
liked  nor  respected.  It  was  one  of  the  first  acts  of  the 
government  of  Louis  XVI.  to  restore  the  ancient  Parlia- 
ment of  Paris,  whose  rights  over  legislation  will  be  con- 
sidered later,  but  which  exercised  at  least  a  certain  moral 
restraint  on  the  royal  authority. 

But  it  was  in  the  administrative  part  of  the  govern- 
ment, where  the  king  seemed  most  free,  that  he  was  in  fact 
most  hampered.  A  vast  system  of  public  offices  had  been 
gradually  formed,  with  regulations,  traditions,  and  a  pro- 
fessional spirit.  This  it  was  which  had  displaced  the  old 
feudal  order,  substituting  centralization  for  vigorous  local 
life. 

The  king's  councils,  which  had  become  the  central  gov- 
erning power  of  the  state,  were  five  in  number.  They 
were,    however,   closely   connected   together.     The  king 


6       THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

himself  was  supposed  to  sit  in  all  of  them,  and  appears 
to  have  attended  three  with  tolerable  regularity.  When 
there  was  a  prime  minister,  he  also  sat  in  the  three  that 
were  most  important.  The  controller  of  the  finances  was  a 
member  of  four  of  the  councils,  and  the  chancellor  of  three 
at  least.  As  these  were  the  most  important  men  in  the 
government,  their  presence  in  the  several  councils  secured 
unity  of  action.  The  boards,  moreover,  were  small,  not 
exceeding  nine  members  in  the  case  of  the  first  four  in  dig- 
nity and  power :  the  Councils  of  State,  of  Despatches,  of 
Finance,  and  of  Commerce.  The  fifth,  the  Privy  Council, 
or  Council  of  Parties,  was  larger,  and  served  in  a  measure 
as  a  training-school  for  the  others.  It  comprised,  beside 
all  the  members  of  the  superior  councils,  thirty  councilors 
of  state,  several  intendants  of  finance,  and  eighty  lawyers 
known  as  maitres  cles  requetes.^ 

The  functions  of  the  various  councils  were  not  clearly 
defined  and  distinguished.  Many  questions  would  be  sub- 
mitted to  one  or  another  of  them  as  chance  or  influence 
might  direct.  Under  each  there  were  a  number  of  public 
offices,  called  bureaux,  where  business  was  prepared,  and 
where  the  smaller  matters  were  practically  settled.  By 
the  royal  councils  and  their  subordinate  public  offices, 
France  was  governed  to  an  extent  and  with  a  minuteness 
hardly  comprehensible  to  any  one  not  accustomed  to  cen- 
tralized government. 

The  councils  did  nothing  in  their  own  name.  The  king 
it  was  who  nominally  settled  everything  with  their  advice. 
The  final  decision  of  every  question  was  supposed  to  rest 
with  the  monarch  himself.  Every  important  matter  was 
in  fact  submitted  to  him.  Thus  in  the  government  of  the 
country,  the  king  could  at  any  moment  take  as  much  of 
the  burden  upon  his  own  shoulders  as  they  were  strong 
enough  to  bear. 

The  legislative  power  was  exercised  by  the  councils.     It 

1  De  Lucay,  Les  Secretaires  d'Etat,  418,  419,  424,  442,  448,  449. 


THE   KING   AND   THE   ADMINISTRATION.  7 

was  a  question  not  entirely  settled  whether  their  edicts 
possessed  full  force  of  law  without  the  assent  of  the  high 
courts  or  parliaments.  But  with  the  councils  rested,  at 
least,  all  the  initiative  of  legislation.  The  process  of  law- 
making began  with  them,  and  by  them  the  laws  were 
shaped  and  drafted. 

They  also  possessed  no  small  part  of  the  judiciary  power. 
The  custom  of  removing  private  causes  from  the  regular 
courts,  and  trying  them  before  one  or  another  of  the  royal 
councils,  was  a  great  and,  I  think,  a  growing  one.  This 
appellate  jurisdiction  was  due  in  theory  partly  to  the  doc- 
trine that  the  king  was  the  origin  of  justice ;  and  partly 
to  the  idea-  that  political  matters  could  not  safely  be  left 
to  ordinary  tribunals.  The  notion  that  the  king  owes  jus- 
tice to  all  his  subjects  and  that  it  is  an  act  of  grace,  per- 
haps even  a  duty  on  his  part,  to  administer  it  in  person 
when  it  is  possible  to  do  so,  is  as  old  as  monarchy  itself. 
Solomon  in  his  palace.  Saint  Louis  under  his  oak,  when 
they  decided  between  suitors  before  them,  were  exercising 
the  inherent  rights  of  sovereignty,  as  understood  in  their 
day.  The  late  descendants  of  the  royal  saint  did  not 
decide  causes  themselves  except  on  rare  occasions,  but  in 
questions  between  parties  followed  the  decision  of  the  ma- 
jority of  the  council  that  heard  the  case.  Thus  the  an- 
cient custom  of  seeking  justice  from  a  royal  judge  merely 
served  to  transfer  jurisdiction  to  an  irregular  tribunal.^ 

The  executive  power  was  both  nominally  and  actually  in 
the  hands  of  the  councils.  Great  questions  of  foreign  and 
domestic  policy  could  be  settled  only  in  the  Council  of 
State.2  But  the  whole  administration  tended  more  and 
more  in  the  same  direction.  Questions  of  detail  were  sub- 
mitted from  all  parts  of  France.  Hardly  a  bridge  was 
built  or  a  steeple  repaired  in  Burgundy  or  Provence  with- 
out a  permission  signed  by  the  king  in  council  and  coun- 

1  De  Lucay,  Les  Secretaires  (VEtat,  465. 

2  Sometimes  called  Coiiseil  d'en  haut,  or  Upper  Council. 


8       THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

tersignecl  by  a  secretary  of  state.  Tlie  Council  of  De- 
spatches exercised  disciplinary  jurisdiction  over  authors, 
printers,  and  booksellers.  It  governed  schools,  and  revised 
their  rules  and  regulations.  It  laid  out  roads,  dredged 
rivers,  and  built  canals.  It  dealt  with  the  clergy,  decided 
differences  between  bishops  and  their  chapters,  authorized 
dioceses  and  parishes  to  borrow  money.  It  took  general 
charge  of  towns  and  municipal  organization.  The  Coun- 
cil of  Finance  and  the  Council  of  Commerce  had  equally 
minute  questions  to  decide  in  their  own  departments. ^ 

Evidently  the  king  and  his  ministers  could  not  give 
their  personal  attention  to  all  these  matters.  Minor  ques- 
tions were  in  fact  settled  by  the  bureaux  and  the  secre- 
taries of  state,  and  the  king  did  little  more  than  sign  the 
necessary  license.  Thus  matters  of  local  interest  were 
practically  decided  by  subordinate  officers  in  Paris  or 
Versailles,  instead  of  being  arranged  in  the  places  where 
they  were  really  understood.  If  a  village  in  Languedoc 
wanted  a  new  parsonage,  neither  the  inhabitants  of  the 
place,  nor  any  one  who  had  ever  been  within  a  hundred 
miles  of  it,  was  allowed  to  decide  on  the  plan  and  to  reg- 
ulate the  expense,  but  the  whole  matter  was  reported  to 
an  office  in  the  capital  and  there  settled  by  a  clerk.  This 
barbarous  system,  which  is  by  no  means  obsolete  in  Eu- 
rope, is  known  in  modern  times  by  the  barbarous  name 
of  bureaucracy. 

The  royal  councils  and  their  subordinate  bureaux  had 
their  agents  in  the  country.  These  were  the  intendants, 
men  who  deserve  attention,  for  by  them  a  very  large  part 
of  the  actual  government  was  carried  on.  They  were 
thirty-two  in  number,  and  governed  each  a  territory, 
called  a  genemlite.  The  intendants  were  not  great  lords, 
nor  the  owners  of  offices  that  had  become  assimilated  to 

1  De  Lucay,  Les  Secretaires  d'Etat,  418.  For  this  excessive  cen- 
tralization, see,  also,  Do  Tocqueville,  Uancien  Regime  et  la  Revolu- 
tion, passim. 


THE   KING   AND   THE   ADMINISTRATION.  9 

property ;  they  were  hard-working  men,  delegated  by  the 
council,  under  the  great  seal,  and  liable  to  be  promoted  or 
recalled  at  the  royal  pleasure.  They  were  chosen  from 
the  class  of  maitres  des  requetes,  and  were  therefore  all 
la^v^^e^s  and  members  of  the  Privy  Council.  Thus  the 
unity  of  the  administration  in  Versailles  and  the  provinces 
was  constantly  maintained. 

It  had  originally  been  the  function  of  the  intendants 
to  act  as  legal  inspectors,  making  the  circuit  of  the  pro- 
vincial towns  for  the  purpose  of  securing  uniformity  and 
the  proper  administration  of  justice  in  the  various  local 
courts.  1  They  retained  to  the  end  of  the  monarchy  the 
privilege  of  sitting  in  all  the  courts  of  law  within  their  dis- 
tricts.^ But  their  duties  and  powers  had  grown  to  be  far 
greater  than  those  of  any  officer  merely  judicial.  The  in- 
tendant  had  charge  of  the  interests  of  the  Catholic  re- 
ligion and  w^orship,  and  the  care  of  buildings  devoted  to 
religious  purposes.  He  also  controlled  the  Protestants, 
and  all  their  affairs.  He  encouraged  and  regulated  agri- 
culture and  commerce.  He  settled  many  questions  con- 
cerning military  matters  and  garrisons.  The  militia  was 
entirely  managed  by  him.  He  cooperated  with  the  courts 
of  justice  in  the  control  of  the  police.  He  had  charge  of 
post-roads  and  post-offices,  stage  coaches,  books  and 
printing,  royal  or  privileged  lotteries,  and  the  suppres- 
sion of  illegal  gambling.  He  was,  in  fact,  the  direct 
representative  of  the  royal  power,  and  was  in  constant 
correspondence  with  the  king's  minister  of  state.  And 
as  the  power  of  the  cro\\Ti  had  constantly  grown  for  two 
centuries,  so  the  power  of  the  intendant  had  constantly 
grown  with  it,  tending  to  the  centralization  and  unity  of 
France  and  to  the  destruction  of  local  liberties. 

As  the  intendants  were  educated  as  lawyers  rather 
than  as  administrators,  and  as  they  were  often  transferred 

1  Du  Boys,  i.  517. 

^  De  Lucay,  Les  Assernbk'es  provinciales,  31. 


10      THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

from  one  province  to  another  after  a  short  term  of  ser- 
vice, they  did  not  acquire  full  knowledge  of  their  busi- 
ness. Moreover,  they  did  not  reside  regularly  in  the  part 
of  the  country  which  they  governed,  but  made  only  flying 
visits  to  it,  and  spent  most  of  their  time  near  the  centre 
of  influence,  in  Paris  or  Versailles.  Yet  their  opportu- 
nities for  doing  good  or  harm  were  almost  unlimited. 
Their  executive  command  was  nearly  uncontrolled;  for 
where  there  were  no  provincial  estates,  the  inhabitants 
could  not  send  a  petition  to  the  king  except  through  the 
hands  of  the  intendant,  and  any  complaint  against  that 
officer  was  referred  to  himself  for  an  answer.^ 

The  intendants  were  represented  in  their  provinces  by 
subordinate  officers  called  sub-delegates,  each  one  of  whom 
ruled  his  petty  district  or  election.  These  men  were  gen- 
erally local  lawyers  or  magistrates.  Their  pay  was  small, 
they  had  no  hope  of  advancement,  and  they  were  under 
great  temptation  to  use  their  extensive  powers  in  a  corrupt 
and  oppressive  manner. ^ 

Beside  the  intendant,  we  find  in  every  province  a  royal 
governor.  The  powers  of  this  official  had  gradually 
waned  before  those  of  his  rival.  He  was  always  a  great 
lord,  drawing  a  great  salary  and  maintaining  great  state, 
but  doing  little  service,  and  really  of  far  less  importance 
to  the  province  than  the  new  man.  He  was  a  survival  of 
the  old  feudal  government,  superseded  by  the  centralized 
monarchy  of  which  the  intendant  was  the  representative.^ 

^  For  the  intendants,  see  Necker,  De  V administration,  ii.  469,  iii. 
379.  Ibid.,  Memoire  au  roi  sur  Vetahlissement  des  administrations 
pruvinciales,  passim.  De  Lucay,  Les  Assemblees  provinciales,  29.  Mer- 
cier,  Tableau  de  Paris,  ix.  85.  The  official  title  of  the  intendant  was 
commissaire  departi. 

2  De  Lucay,  Les  Assemblees  provinciales,  42,  etc. 

*  The  generalite  governed  by  the  intendant,  and  the  province  to 
which  the   royal  governor  was  appointed,  were  not  always  coter- 


CHAPTER    II. 

LOUIS   XVI.    AND   HIS   COURT. 

A  CENTRALIZED  government,  when  it  is  well  managed 
and  carefully  watched  from  above,  may  reach  a  degree  of 
efficiency  and  quickness  of  action  which  a  government  of 
distributed  local  powers  cannot  hope  to  equal.  But  if  a 
strong  central  government  become  disorganized,  if  ineffi- 
ciency, or  idleness,  or,  above  all,  dishonesty,  once  obtain 
a  ruling  place  in  it,  the  whole  governing  body  is  diseased. 
The  honest  men  who  may  find  themselves  involved  in  any 
inferior  part  of  the  administration  will  either  fall  into 
discouraged  acquiescence,  or  break  their  hearts  and  ruin 
their  fortunes  in  hopeless  revolt.  Nothing  but  long  years 
of  untiring  effort  and  inflexible  will  on  the  part  of  the 
ruler,  with  power  to  change  his  agents  at  his  discretion, 
can  restore  order  and  honesty. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  the  French  administrative 
body  at  the  time  when  Louis  XVI.  began  to  reign,  was 
corrupt  and  self-seeking.  In  the  management  of  the 
finances  and  of  the  army,  illegitimate  profits  were  made. 
But  this  was  not  the  worst  evil  from  which  the  public 
service  was  suffering.  France  was  in  fact  governed  by 
what  in  modern  times  is  called  "a  ring."  The  members 
of  such  an  organization  pretend  to  serve  the  sovereign,  or 
the  public,  and  in  some  measure  actually  do  so ;  but  their 
rewards  are  determined  by  intrigue  and  favor,  and  are 
entirely  disproportionate  to  their  services.  They  gener- 
ally prefer  jobbery  to  direct  stealing,  and  will  spend  a 
million  of  the  state's  money  in  a  needless  undertaking, 
in  order  to  divert  a  few  thousands  into  their  o^\^l  pockets. 


12      THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

They  hold  together  against  all  the  world,  while  trying  to 
circumvent  each  other.  Such  a  ring  in  old  France  was 
the  court.  By  such  a  ring  will  every  country  be  gov- 
erned, where  the  sovereign  who  possesses  the  political 
power  is  weak  in  moral  character  or  careless  of  the  public 
interest;  whether  that  sovereign  be  a  monarch,  a  cham- 
ber, or  the  mass  of  the  people.^ 

Louis  XVI.,  king  of  France  and  of  Navarre,  was  more 
dull  than  stupid,  and  weaker  in  will  than  in  intellect.  In 
him  the  hobbledehoy  period  had  been  unusually  prolonged, 
and  strangers  at  court  were  astonished  to  see  a  prince  of 
nineteen  years  of  age  running  after  a  footman  to  tickle 
him  while  his  hands  were  full  of  dirty  clothes.^  The 
clumsy  youth  grew  up  into  a  shy  and  awkward  man,  un- 
able to  find  at  will  those  accents  of  gracious  politeness 
which  are  most  useful  to  the  great.  Yet  people  who  had 
been  struck  at  first  only  with  his  awkwardness  were  some- 
times astonished  to  find  in  him  a  certain  amount  of  edu- 
cation, a  memory  for  facts,  and  a  reasonable  judgment.^ 
Among  his  predecessors  he  had  set  himself  Henry  IV.  as 
a  model,  probably  without  any  very  accurate  idea  of  the 
character  of  that  monarch ;  and  he  had  fully  determined 
that  he  would  do  what  in  him  lay  to  make  his  people 
happy.  He  was,  moreover,  thoroughly  conscientious, 
and  had  a  high  sense  of  the  responsibility  of  his  great 
calling.  He  was  not  indolent,  although  heavy,  and  his 
courage,  which  was  sorely  tested,  was  never  broken. 
With  these  virtues  he  might  have  made  a  good  king,  had 
he  possessed  firmness  of  will  enough  to  support  a  good 
minister,  or  to  adhere  to  a  good  policy.    But  such  strength 

^  "  Quand,  dans  un  royaume,  il  y  a  plus  d'avantage  k  faire  sa 
comr  qu'k  faire  son  devoir,  tout  est  perdu."  Montesquieu,  vii.  176, 
(Pensees  diverses.) 

2  Swinburne,  i.  11. 

*  Campan,  ii.  231.  Bertrand  de  Moleville,  Histoire,  i.  Introd. ; 
Memoires,  i.  221. 


LOUIS   XVI.    AND   HIS    COURT.  13 

had  not  been  given  him.  Totally  incapable  of  standing 
by  himself,  he  leant  successively,  or  simultaneously,  on 
his  aunt,  his  wife,  his  ministers,  his  courtiers,  as  ready 
to  change  his  policy  as  his  adviser.  Yet  it  was  part  of 
his  weakness  to  be  unwilling  to  believe  himself  under 
the  guidance  of  any  particular  person;  he  set  a  high 
value  on  his  own  authority,  and  was  inordinately  jealous 
of  it.  No  one,  therefore,  could  acquire  a  permanent 
influence.  Thus  a  well-meaning  man  became  the  worst 
of  sovereigns ;  for  the  first  virtue  of  a  master  is  consis- 
tency, and  no  subordinate  can  follow  out  with  intelligent 
zeal  to-day  a  policy  which  he  knows  may  be  subverted 
to-morrow. 

The  apologists  of  Louis  XVI.  are  fond  of  speaking  of 
him  as  "virtuous."  The  adjective  is  singularly  ill-chosen. 
His  faults  were  of  the  will  more  than  of  the  understanding. 
To  have  a  vague  notion  of  what  is  right,  to  desire  it  in  a 
general  way,  and  to  lack  the  moral  force  to  do  it,  —  surely 
this  is  the  very  opposite  of  virtue. 

The  French  court,  which  was  destined  to  have  a  very 
great  influence  on  the  course  of  events  in  this  reign  and 
in  the  beginning  of  the  French  Revolution,  was  composed 
of  the  people  about  the  king's  person.  The  royal  family 
and  the  members  of  the  higher  nobility  were  admitted  into 
the  circle  by  right  of  birth,  but  a  large  place  could  be 
obtained  only  by  favor.  It  was  the  court  that  controlled 
most  appointments,  for  no  king  could  know  all  applicants 
personally  and  intimately.  The  stream  of  honor  and 
emolument  from  the  royal  fountain-head  was  diverted, 
by  the  ministers  and  courtiers,  into  their  own  channels. 
Louis  XV.  had  been  led  by  his  mistresses ;  Louis  XVI. 
was  turned  about  by  the  last  person  who  happened  to 
speak  to  him.  The  courtiers,  in  their  turn,  were  swayed 
by  their  feelings,  or  their  interests.  They  formed  parties 
and  combinations,  and  intrigued  for  or  against  each  other. 
They  made  bargains,  they  gave  and  took  bribes.     In  all 


14      THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

these  intrigues,  bribes,  and  bargains,  the  court  ladies  had 
a  great  share.  They  were. as  corrupt  as  the  men,  and  as 
frivolous.  It  is  probable  that  in  no  government  did 
women  ever  exercise  so  great  an  influence. 

The  factions  into  which  the  court  was  divided  tended 
to  group  themselves  round  certain  rich  and  influential 
families.  Such  were  the  Noailles,  an  ambitious  and 
powerful  house,  with  which  Lafayette  was  connected  by 
marriage ;  the  Broglies,  one  of  whom  had  held  the  thread 
of  the  secret  diplomacy  which  Louis  XV.  had  carried 
on  behind  the  backs  of  his  acknowledged  ministers;  the 
Polignacs,  new  people,  creatures  of  Queen  Marie  Antoi- 
nette; the  Rohans,  through  the  influence  of  whose  great 
name  an  unworthy  member  of  the  family  was  to  rise  to 
high  dignity  in  the  church  and  the  state,  and  then  to 
cast  a  deep  shadow  on  the  darkening  popularity  of  that 
ill-starred  princess.  Such  families  as  these  formed  an 
upper  class  among  nobles,  and  the  members  firmly  be- 
lieved in  their  own  prescriptive  right  to  the  best  places. 
The  poorer  nobility,  on  the  other  hand,  saw  with  great 
jealousy  the  supremacy  of  the  court  families.  They  in- 
sisted that  there  was  and  should  be  but  one  order  of  no- 
bility, all  whose  members  were  equal  among  themselves.^ 

The  courtiers,  on  their  side,  thought  themselves  a  differ- 
ent order  of  beings  from  the  rest  of  the  nation.  The  cer- 
emony of  presentation  was  the  passport  into  their  society, 
but  by  no  means  all  who  possessed  this  formal  title  were 
held  to  belong  to  the  inner  circle.  Women  who  came  to 
court  but  once  a  week,  although  of  great  family,  were 
known  as  "  Sunday  ladies."  The  true  courtier  lived 
always  in  the  refulgent  presence  of  his  sovereign.^ 

The  court  was  considered  a  perfectly  legitimate  power, 
although  much  hated  at  times,  and  bearing,  very  properly, 

1  See  among  other  places  the  Instructions  of  the  Nobility  of  Bloia 
to  the  deputies,  Archives  parlementaires,  ii.  385. 

2  Campan,  ill.  89. 


LOUIS   XVI.    AND   HIS   COURT.  15 

a  large  share  of  the  odium  of  misgovernment.  The  idea 
of  its  legitimacy  is  impressed  on  the  language  of  diplo- 
macy, and  we  still  speak  of  the  Court  of  St.  James,  the 
Court  of  Vienna,  as  powers  to  be  dealt  with.  Under  a 
monarchy,  people  do  not  always  distinguish  in  their  own 
minds  between  the  good  of  the  state  and  the  personal 
enjoyment  of  the  monarch,  nor  is  the  doctrine  that  the 
king  exists  for  his  people  by  any  means  fully  recognized. 
When  the  Count  of  Artois  told  the  Parliament  of  Paris 
in  1787  that  they  knew  that  the  expenses  of  the  king 
could  not  be  regulated  by  his  receipts,  but  that  his  re- 
ceipts must  be  governed  by  his  expenses,  he  spoke  a  haK- 
truth ;  yet  it  had  probably  not  occurred  to  him  that  there 
was  any  difference  between  the  necessity  of  keeping  up 
an  efficient  army,  and  the  desirability  of  having  hounds, 
coaches,  and  palaces.  He  had  not  reflected  that  it  might 
be  essential  to  the  honor  of  France  to  feed  the  old  soldiers 
in  the  Hotel  des  Invalides,  and  quite  superfluous  to  pay 
large  sums  to  generals  who  had  never  taken  the  field  and 
to  colonels  who  seldom  visited  their  regiments.  The  cour- 
tiers fully  believed  that  to  interfere  with  their  salaries 
was  to  disturb  the  most  sacred  rights  of  property.  In 
1787,  when  the  strictest  economy  was  necessary,  the  king 
united  his  "Great  Stables"  and  "Small  Stables,"  throw- 
ing the  Duke  of  Coigny,  who  had  charge  of  the  latter, 
out  of  place.  Although  great  pains  were  taken  to  spare 
the  duke's  feelings  and  his  pocket,  he  was  very  angry  at 
the  change,  and  there  was  a  violent  scene  between  him 
and  the  king.  "We  were  really  provoked,  the  Duke  of 
Coigny  and  I,"  said  Louis  good-naturedly  afterwards, 
"but  I  think  if  he  had  thrashed  me,  I  should  have  for- 
given him."  The  duke,  however,  was  not  so  placable  as 
the  king.  Holding  another  appointment,  he  resigned  it  in 
a  huff.  The  queen  was  displeased  at  this  mark  of  temper, 
and  remarked  to  a  courtier  that  the  Duke  of  Coigny  did 
not  appreciate  the  consideration  that  had  been  shown  him. 


16      THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

"Madam,"  was  the  reply,  "he  is  losing  too  much  to  be 
content  with  compliments.  It  is  too  bad  to  live  in  a  coun- 
try where  you  are  not  sure  of  possessing  to-day  what  you 
had  yesterday.  Such  things  used  to  take  place  only  in 
Turkey."! 

It  is  not  easy,  in  looking  at  the  French  government 
in  the  eighteenth  century,  to  decide  where  the  working 
administration  ended,  and  where  the  useless  court  that 
answered  no  real  purpose  began.  The  ministers  of  state 
were  reckoned  a  part  of  the  court.  So  were  many  of  the 
upper  civil-servants,  the  king's  military  staff,  and  in  a 
sense,  the  guards  and  household  troops.  So  were  the 
"great  services, "  partaking  of  the  nature  of  public  offices, 
ceremonial  honors,  and  domestic  labors.  Of  this  kind 
were  the  Household,  the  Chamber,  the  Antechamber  and 
Closet,  the  Great  and  the  Little  Stables,  with  their  Grand 
Squire,  First  Squire  and  pages,  who  had  to  prove  nobil- 
ity to  the  satisfaction  of  the  royal  herald.  There  was  the 
department  of  hunting  and  that  of  buildings,  a  separate 
one  for  royal  journeys,  one  for  the  guard,  another  for 
police,  yet  another  for  ceremonies.  There  were  five  hun- 
dred officers  "of  the  mouth,"  table-bearers  distinct  from 
chair-bearers.  There  were  tradesmen,  from  apothecaries 
and  armorers  at  one  end  of  the  list  to  saddle -makers,  tail- 
ors and  violinists  at  the  other. 

When  a  baby  is  at  last  born  to  Marie  Antoinette  (only 
a  girl,  to  every  one's  disappointment),  a  rumor  gets  about 
that  the  child  will  be  tended  with  great  simplicity.  The 
queen's  mother,  the  Empress  Maria  Theresa,  in  distant 
Vienna,  takes  alarm.  She  does  not  approve  of  "the 
present  fashion  according  to  Kousseau"  by  which  young 
princes  are  brought  up  like  peasants.  Her  ambassador 
in  Paris  hastens  to  reassure  her.  The  infant  will  not 
lack  reasonable  ceremony.  The  service  of  her  royal  per- 
son alone  will  employ  nearly  eighty  attendants.'^ 

1  Besenval,  ii.  255.  ^  Mercy- Argenteau,  iii.  283,  292. 


LOUIS    XVI.    AND   HIS   COURT.  17 

The  military  and  civil  households  of  the  king  and  of 
the  royal  family  are  said  to  have  consisted  of  about  fifteen 
thousand  souls,  and  to  have  cost  forty -five  million  francs 
per  annum.  The  holders  of  many  of  the  places  served 
but  three  months  apiece  out  of  every  year,  so  that  four 
officers  and  four  salaries  were  required,  instead  of  one. 

With  such  a  system  as  this  we  cannot  wonder  that  the 
men  who  administered  the  French  government  were  gen- 
erally incapable  and  seK-seeking.  Most  of  them  were 
politicians  rather  than  administrators,  and  cared  more  for 
their  places  than  for  their  country.  Of  the  few  conscien- 
tious and  patriotic  men  who  obtained  power,  the  greater 
number  lost  it  very  speedily.  Turgot  and  Malesherbes 
did  not  long  remain  in  the  Council.  Necker,  more  cau- 
tious and  conservative,  could  keep  his  place  no  better. 
The  jealousy  of  Louis  was  excited,  and  he  feared  the 
domination  of  a  man  of  whom  the  general  opinion  of  pos- 
terity has  been  that  he  was  wanting  in  decision.  Calonne 
was  sent  away  as  soon  as  he  tried  to  turn  from  extrava- 
gance to  economy.  Vergennes  alone,  of  the  good  ser- 
vants, retained  his  office ;  perhaps  because  he  had  little  to 
do  with  financial  matters ;  perhaps,  also,  because  he  knew 
how  to  keep  himself  decidedly  subordinate  to  whatever 
power  was  in  the  ascendant.  The  lasting  influences  were 
that  of  Maurepas,  an  old  man  who  cared  for  nothing  but 
himself,  whose  great  object  in  government  was  to  be 
without  a  rival,  and  whose  art  was  made  up  of  tact  and 
gayety;  and  that  of  the  rival  factions  of  Lamballe  and 
Polignac,  guiding  the  queen,  which  were  simply  rapacious. 

The  courtiers  and  the  numerous  people  who  were  drawn 
to  Versailles  by  business  or  curiosity  were  governed  by  a 
system  of  rules  of  gradual  growth,  constituting  what  was 
known  as  "Etiquette."  The  word  has  passed  into  com- 
mon speech.  In  this  country  it  is  an  unpopular  word, 
and  there  is  an  impression  in  many  people's  minds  that 
the  thing  which  it  represents  is  unnecessary.     This,  how- 


18      THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

ever,  is  a  great  delusion.  Etiquette  is  that  code  of  rules, 
not  necessarily  connected  witli  morals,  by  which  mutual 
intercourse  is  regulated.  Every  society,  whether  civilized 
or  barbarous,  has  such  a  code  of  its  own.  Without  it 
social  life  would  be  impossible,  for  no  man  would  know 
what  to  expect  of  his  neighbors,  nor  be  able  promptly  to 
interpret  the  words  and  actions  of  his  fellow-men.  It  is 
in  obedience  to  an  unwritten  law  of  this  kind  that  an 
American  takes  off  his  hat  when  he  goes  into  a  church, 
and  an  Asiatic,  when  he  enters  a  mosque,  takes  off  his 
shoes;  that  Englishmen  shake  hands,  and  Africans  rub 
noses.  Where  etiquette  is  well  understood  and  well 
adapted  to  the  persons  whom  it  governs,  men  are  at  ease, 
for  they  know  what  they  may  do  without  offense.  Where 
it  is  too  complicated  it  hampers  them,  making  spontaneous 
action  difficult,  and  there  is  no  doubt  that  the  etiquette 
that  governed  the  French  court  was  antiquated,  unadvis- 
able  and  cumbrous.  Its  rules  had  been  devised  to  pre- 
vent confusion  and  to  regulate  the  approach  of  the  cour- 
tiers to  the  king.  As  all  honors  and  emoluments  came 
from  the  royal  pleasure,  people  were  sure  to  crowd  about 
the  monarch,  and  to  jostle  each  other  with  unmannerly 
and  dangerous  haste,  unless  they  were  strictly  held  in 
check.  Every  one,  therefore,  must  have  his  place  defi- 
nitely assigned  to  him.  To  be  near  the  king  at  all  times, 
to  have  the  opportunity  of  slipping  a  timely  word  into  his 
ear,  was  an  invaluable  privilege.  To  be  employed  in 
menial  offices  about  his  person  was  a  mark  of  confidence. 
Rules  could  not  easily  be  revised,  for  each  of  them  con- 
cerned a  vested  right.  Those  in  force  in  the  reign  of 
Louis  XYI.  had  been  established  by  his  predecessors  when 
manners  were  different. 

At  the  close  of  the  Middle  Ages  privacy  may  be  said  to 
have  been  a  luxury  almost  unknown  to  any  man.  There 
was  not  room  for  it  in  the  largest  castle.  Solitude  was 
seldom  either  possible  or  safe.     People  were  crowded  to* 


LOUIS   XVI.    AND   HIS   COURT.  19 

gether  without  means  of  escape  from  each  other.  The 
greatest  received  their  dependents,  and  often  ate  their 
meals,  in  their  bedrooms.  A  confidential  interview  would 
be  held  in  the  embrasure  of  a  window.  Such  customs 
disappeared  but  gradually  from  the  sixteenth  century  to 
our  own.  But  by  the  latter  part  of  the  eighteenth,  mod- 
ern ways  and  ideas  were  coming  in.  Yet  the  etiquette  of 
the  French  court  was  still  old-fashioned.  It  infringed 
too  much  on  the  king's  privacy;  it  interfered  seriously 
with  his  freedom.  It  exposed  him  too  familiarly  to  the 
eyes  of  a  nation  overprone  to  ridicule.  A  man  who  is  to 
inspire  awe  should  not  dress  and  undress  in  public.  A 
woman  who  is  to  be  regarded  with  veneration  should  be 
allowed  to  take  her  bath  and  give  birth  to  her  children  in 
private.^ 

Madame  Campan,  long  a  waiting-woman  of  Marie  An- 
toinette, has  left  an  account  of  the  toilet  of  the  queen  and 
of  the  little  occurrences  that  might  interrupt  it.  The 
whole  performance,  she  says,  was  a  masterpiece  of  eti- 
quette ;  everything  about  it  was  governed  by  rules.  The 
Lady  of  Honor  and  the  Lady  of  the  Bedchamber,  both  if 
they  were  there  together,  assisted  by  the  First  Woman  and 
the  two  other  women,  did  the  principal  service ;  but  there 
were  distinctions  among  them.  The  Lady  of  the  Bed- 
chamber put  on  the  skirt  and  presented  the  gown.  The 
Lady  of  Honor  poured  out  the  water  to  wash  the  queen's 
hands  and  put  on  the  chemise.  When  a  Princess  of  the 
Koyal  Family  or  a  Princess  of  the  Blood  was  present  at 
the  toilet,  the  Lady  of  Honor  gave  up  the  latter  fimction 
to  her.  To  a  Princess  of  the  Royal  Family,  that  is  to  say 
to  the  sister,  sister-in-law,  or  aunt  of  the  king,  she  handed 

1  See  the  account  of  the  birth  of  Marie  Antoinette's  first  child, 
when  she  was  in  danger  from  the  mixed  crowd  that  filled  her  room, 
stood  on  chairs,  etc.,  19th  Dec.  1778.  Campan,  i,  201.  At  her 
later  confinements  only  princes  of  the  blood,  the  chancellor  and  the 
ministers,  and  a  few  other  persons  were  admitted.    Ibid.,  203. 


20      THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

the  garment  directly ;  but  to  a  Princess  of  the  Blood  (the 
king's  cousin  by  blood  or  marriage)  she  did  not  yield  this 
service.  In  the  latter  case,  the  Lady  of  Honor  handed 
the  chemise  to  the  First  Woman,  who  presented  it  to  the 
Princess  of  the  Blood.  Every  one  of  these  ladies  observed 
these  customs  scrupulously,  as  appertaining  to  her  rank. 

One  winter's  day  it  happened  that  the  Queen,  entirely 
undressed,  was  about  to  put  on  her  chemise.  Madame 
Campan  was  holding  it  unfolded.  The  Lady  of  Honor 
came  in,  made  haste  to  take  off  her  gloves  and  took  the 
chemise.  While  she  still  had  it  in  her  hands  there  came 
a  knock  at  the  door,  which  was  immediately  opened.  The 
new-comer  was  the  Duchess  of  Orleans,  a  Princess  of  the 
Blood.  Her  Highness' s  gloves  were  taken  off,  she  ad- 
vanced to  take  the  shift,  but  the  Lady  of  Honor  must  not 
give  it  directly  to  her,  and  therefore  passed  it  back  to 
Madame  Campan,  who  gave  it  to  the  princess.  Just  then 
there  came  another  knock  at  the  door,  and  the  Countess 
of  Provence,  known  as  Madame,  and  sister-in-law  to  the 
king,  was  ushered  in.  The  Duchess  of  Orleans  presented 
the  chemise  to  her.  Meanwhile  the  Queen  kept  her  arms 
crossed  on  her  breast,  and  looked  cold.  Madame  saw  her 
disagreeable  position,  and  without  waiting  to  take  off  her 
gloves,  merely  threw  away  her  handkerchief  and  put  the 
chemise  on  the  Queen.  In  her  haste  she  knocked  down 
the  Queen's  hair.  The  latter  burst  out  laughing,  to  hide 
her  annoyance ;  and  only  murmured  several  times  between 
her  teeth:   " This  is  odious !     What  a  nuisance !  " 

This  anecdote  gives  but  an  instance  of  the  well-known 
and  not  unfounded  aversion  of  Marie  Antoinette  to  the 
etiquette  of  the  French  court.  But  the  young  queen  made 
no  attempt  to  reform  that  etiquette;  she  tried  only  to 
evade  it.  Much  has  been  written  about  Marie  Antoinette 
as  a  woman,  her  terrible  misfortunes  and  the  fortitude 
with  which  she  bore  them  having  evoked  the  sympathy  of 
mankind.     Her  conduct  as  a  queen-consort  has  been  less 


LOUIS   XVI.    AND   HIS   COURT.  21 

considered.  The  woman  was  lively  and  amiable,  possess- 
ing a  great  personal  cliarm,  which  impressed  those  who 
approached  her;  but  that  mattered  little  to  the  nation, 
whose  dealings  were  with  the  queen.  What  were  the 
duties  of  her  office  and  how  did  she  fulfill  them? 

The  first  thing  demanded  of  her  was  parade.  She  had 
to  keep  up  the  splendor  and  attractiveness  of  the  French 
monarchy.  This,  in  spite  of  her  impatience  of  etiquette, 
was  of  all  her  public  duties  the  one  which  she  best  per- 
formed. Her  manners  were  dignified,  gracious,  and  ap- 
propriately discriminating.  It  is  said  that  she  could  bow 
to  ten  persons  with  one  movement,  giving,  with  her  head 
and  eyes,  the  recognition  due  to  each  separately. 

She  had  also  the  art  of  talking  to  several  people  at  once, 
so  that  each  one  felt  as  if  her  remarks  had  been  addressed 
to  himself,  and  the  equally  important  art  (sometimes  called 
royal)  of  remembering  faces  and  names.  As  she  passed 
from  one  part  of  her  palace  to  another,  surrounded  by 
the  ladies  of  her  court,  she  seemed  to  the  spectator  to 
surpass  them  all  in  the  nobility  of  her  countenance  and 
the  dignified  grace  of  her  carriage.  She  had  the  crown- 
ing beauty  of  woman,  a  well-poised  and  proudly  carried 
head.  Her  gait  was  a  gliding  motion,  in  which  the  steps 
were  not  clearly  distinguishable.  Foreigners  generally 
were  enchanted  with  her,  and  to  them  she  owes  no  small 
part  of  her  posthumous  popularity.  The  French  nobility, 
on  the  other  hand,  complained,  not  unreasonably,  that 
the  queen  was  too  exclusively  devoted  to  the  society  of  a 
few  intimate  companions,  for  whose  sake  she  neglected 
other  people.  Her  court,  on  this  account,  was  sometimes 
comparatively  deserted.  But  a  young  queen  can  hardly 
be  very  severely  blamed  if  she  often  j)refers  her  pleasures 
and  her  friends  to  the  tedious  duties  of  her  position.  Ma- 
rie Antoinette  had  had  little  education  or  guidance.  Her 
likes  and  dislikes  were  strong,  nor  was  she  entirely  above 
petty  spite.      ''You  tell  me,"  wrote  Maria  Theresa  to  her 


22      THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

daughter  on  one  occasion,  "that  for  love  of  me  you  treat 
the  Broglies  well,  although  they  have  been  disrespectful 
to  you  personally.  That  is  another  odd  idea.  Can  a  lit- 
tle Broglie  be  disrespectful  to  you?  I  do  not  understand 
that.  No  one  was  ever  disrespectful  to  me,  nor  to  any  of 
your  ten  brothers  and  sisters."  It  was  no  fair-weather 
queen  that  wrote  this  most  royal  reproof.  Marie  An- 
toinette never  rose  to  this  height  of  dignity,  where  the 
great  lady  sits  above  the  clouds.  In  her  days  of  prosper- 
ity she  certainly  never  approached  it.  Perhaps  no  mortal 
woman  ever  reached  it  in  early  life.^ 

It  is  one  of  the  most  important  duties  of  a  queen-con- 
sort to  set  a  good  example  in  morals.  Here  Marie  An- 
toinette was  deficient.  Her  private  conduct  has  probably 
been  slandered,  but  she  brought  the  slanders  on  herself. 
Beside  the  code  of  morals,  there  is  in  every  country  a  code 
of  proprieties,  and  people  who  habitually  do  that  which 
is  considered  improper  have  only  themselves  to  thank  if 
a  harsh  construction  is  put  on  their  doubtful  actions.  The 
scandals  concerning  Marie  Antoinette  were  numberless 
and  public.  The  young  queen  of  France  chose  for  her 
intimate  companions  men  and  women  of  bad  reputation. 
Her  brother,  Joseph  II. ,  was  shocked  when  he  visited  her, 
at  the  familiar  manners  which  she  permitted.  He  wrote 
to  her  that  English  travelers  compared  her  court  to  Spa, 
then  a  famous  gambling-place,  and  he  called  the  Jiouse  of 
the  Princess  of  Guemenee,  which  she  was  in  the  habit 
of  frequenting,  "a  real  gambling-hell."  Accusations  of 
cheating  at  cards  flew  about  the  palace,  and  one  courtier 
had  his  pocket  picked  in  the  royal  drawing-room.  The 
queen  was  constantly  surrounded  by  dissipated  young 
noblemen,  who  on  race  days  were  allowed  to  come  into 

1  Mercy- Argenteau,  passim,  and  especially  i.  218,  265,  279  ;  ii.  218, 
232,  312,  525;  iii.  56,  113,  132  and  n.,  157,  265,  490.  Tilly,  Memoires, 
230.  Cognel,  59,  84  ;  Wraxall,  i.  85  ;  Walpole's  Letters,  vi.  245  (23d 
Aug.  1776),  etc. 


LOUIS   XVI.    AND   HIS  COURT.  23 

her  presence  in  costumes  which  shocked  conservative  peo- 
ple. She  herself  was  recognized  at  public  masked  balls, 
where  the  worst  women  of  the  capital  jostled  the  great 
nobles  of  the  court.  When  she  had  the  measles,  four 
gentlemen  of  her  especial  friends  were  appointed  nurses, 
and  hardly  left  her  chamber  during  the  day  and  evenings 
People  asked  ironically  what  four  ladies  would  be  ap- 
pointed to  nurse  the  king  if  he  were  ill.  In  her  amuse- 
ments she  was  seldom  accompanied  by  her  husband.  It 
hardly  told  in  her  favor  that  the  latter  was  a  man  for 
whom  a  young  and  high  -  spirited  woman  could  not  be 
expected  to  entertain  any  very  passionate  affection. 

The  country  was  deeply  in  debt,  and  during  a  part  of 
the  reign  an  expensive  war  was  going  on.  It  was  obvi- 
ously the  queen's  duty  to  retrench  her  own  expenses,  and 
to  set  an  example  of  economy.  Yet  her  demands  on  the 
treasury  were  very  great.  Her  personal  allowance  was 
much  larger  than  that  of  the  previous  queen,  and  she  was 
frequently  in  debt.  Her  losses  at  play  were  considerable, 
in  spite  of  her  husband's  well-known  aversion  to  gam- 
bling. She  increased  the  number  of  expensive  and  use- 
less offices  about  her  court.  She  was  constantly  accessi- 
ble to  rapacious  favorites.  The  feeble  king  coidd  at  least 
recognize  that  he  owed  something  to  his  subjects;  the 
queen  appears  to  have  thought  that  the  revenues  of  France 
were  intended  principally  to  provide  means  for  the  royal 
bounty  to  people  who  had  done  nothing  to  deserve  it. 
On  the  other  hand,  she  acknowledged  the  duty  of  private 
charity,  and  believed  that  thereby  she  was  earning  the 
gratitude  of  her  subjects.  That  the  taxpayer  was  en- 
titled to  any  consideration  is  an  idea  that  does  not  seem 
to  have  entered  her  mind. 

Had  Marie  Antoinette  been  the  wife  of  a  strong  and 
able  king,  she  would  probably  have  been  quite  right  in 
avoiding  interference  in  the  government  of  the  state. 
Being  married  to  Louis  XVI.,  it  was  inevitable  that  she 


24      THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

should  try  to  direct  his  vacillating  will  in  public  matters. 
It  therefore  becomes  pertinent  to  ask  whether  her  influ- 
ence was  generally  exerted  on  the  right  side. 

It  is  evident  that  in  the  earlier  part  of  her  reign  the 
affairs  of  the  state  did  not  interest  her,  though  her  feel- 
ings were  often  strongly  moved  for  or  against  persons. 
Her  preference  for  Choiseul  and  his  adherents,  over 
Aiguillon  and  his  party,  was  natural  and  well  founded. 
The  Duke  of  Choiseul  was  not  only  the  author  of  the 
Austrian  alliance  and  of  the  queen's  marriage,  but  was 
also  the  ablest  minister  who  had  recently  held  favor  in 
France.  Had  Marie  Antoinette  possessed  as  much  in- 
fluence over  her  husband  in  1774  as  she  obtained  later, 
she  might  perhaps  have  overcome  what  seems  to  have 
been  one  of  his  strongest  prejudices,  and  have  brought 
Choiseul  back  to  power,  to  the  benefit  of  the  country. 
But  her  efforts  in  that  direction  were  unavailing.  In  her 
relations  with  the  other  ministers,  Turgot,  Malesherbes, 
and  Necker,  her  voice  was  generally  on  the  side  of  ex- 
travagance and  the  court,  and  against  economy  and  the 
nation.  This,  far  more  than  the  intrigues  of  faction,  was 
the  cause  of  the  unpopularity  that  pursued  her  to  her 
grave.  If  the  court  of  France  was  a  corrupt  ring  living 
on  the  country,  Marie  Antoinette  was  not  far  from  being 
its  centre. 


CHAPTER   III. 

THE    CLERGY. 

The  inhabitants  of  France  were  divided  into  three 
orders,  differing  in  legal  rights.  These  were  the  Clergy, 
the  Nobility,  and  the  Commons,  or  Third  Estate.  The 
first  two,  which  are  commonly  spoken  of  as  the  privileged 
orders,  contained  but  a  small  fraction  of  the  population 
numerically,  but  their  wealth  and  position  gave  them  a 
great  importance. 

The  clergy  formed,  as  the  philosophers  were  never  tired 
of  complaining,  a  state  within  a  state.  No  accurate  sta- 
tistics concerning  it  can  be  obtained.  The  whole  number 
of  persons  vowed  to  religion  in  the  country,  both  regular 
and  secular,  would  seem  to  have  been  between  one  hun- 
dred and  one  hundred  and  thirty  thousand.  They  owned 
probably  from  one  fifth  to  one  quarter  of  the  soil.  The 
proportion  was  excessive,  but  it  does  not  appear  that  tho 
lay  inhabitants  of  the  country  were  thereby  crowded. 
Like  other  landowners,  the  clergy  had  tenants,  and  they 
were  far  from  being  the  worst  of  landlords.  For  one 
thing,  they  were  seldo?ii  absentees.  The  abbot  of  a  mon- 
astery might  spend  his  time  at  Versailles,  but  the  prior 
and  the  monks  remained,  to  do  their  duty  by  their  farm- 
ers. It  is  said  that  the  church  lands  were  the  best  cul- 
tivated in  the  kingdom,  and  that  the  peasants  that  tilled 
them  were  the  best  treated.^     In  any  case  the  church  was 

*  Bartlidldmy,  Erreurs  et  mensonges  historiques,  xv.  40.  Article  en- 
titled La  question  des  congregations  il  y  a  cent  ans,  quoting  largely  from 
F^roux,  Vues  cfun  Solitaire  Patriote,  1784.  See  also  Genlis,  Diction- 
naire  d'is  Etiquettes,  ii.  79.    ISlatliieii,  324.    liabeaii,  La  vie  rurale,  133. 


26      THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

rich.  Its  income  from  invested  property,  principally 
land,  has  been  reckoned  at  one  hundred  and  twenty-four 
million  livres  a  year.  It  received  about  as  much  more 
from  tithes,  beside  the  amount,  very  variously  reckoned, 
which  came  in  as  fees,  on  such  occasions  as  weddings, 
christenings,  and  funerals. 

Tithes  were  imposed  throughout  France  for  the  support 
of  the  clergy.  They  were  not,  however,  taken  upon  all 
articles  of  produce,  nor  did  they  usually  amount  to  one 
tenth  of  the  increase.  Sometimes  the  tithe  was  com- 
pounded for  a  fixed  rent  in  money ;  sometimes  for  a  given 
number  of  sheaves,  or  measures  of  wine  per  acre.  Oftener 
it  was  a  fixed  proportion  of  the  crop,  varying  from  one 
quarter  to  one  fortieth.  In  some  places  wood,  fruit,  and 
other  commodities  were  exempt ;  in  other  places  they  were 
charged.  Tithe  was  in  some  cases  taken  of  calves,  lambs, 
chickens,  sucking  pigs,  fleeces,  or  fish;  and  the  clergy 
or  the  tithe  owners  were  bound  to  provide  the  necessary 
bulls,  rams,  and  boars.  A  distinction  was  usually  made 
between  the  Great  tithes,  levied  on  such  common  articles 
as  corn  and  wine,  and  the  Small  tithes,  taken  from  less 
important  crops.  Of  these  the  former  were  often  paid  to 
the  bishops,  the  latter  to  the  parish  priest.  The  tithes 
had  in  some  cases  been  alienated  by  the  church  and  w^ere 
owned  by  lay  proprietors.  In  general,  it  is  believed  that 
this  tax  on  the  agricultural  class  in  France  amounted  to 
about  one  eighteenth  of  the  gross  product  of  the  soil.^ 

The  whole  body  of  the  clergy,  as  it  existed  within  the 
boundaries  of  the  kingdom,  was  not  subject  to  the  same 
rules  and  laws.  The  larger  part  of  it  formed  what  was 
known  as  the  "Clergy  of  France,"  and  possessed  peculiar 
rights  and  privileges  presently  to  be  described.     Those 

2  Chassin,  Les  cahiers  du  clerge,  36.  Bailly,  ii.  414,  419.  Boiteau, 
41.  Rambaud,  ii.  58  n.  Taine,  Uancien  Regime  (book  i.  chap.  ii.). 
The  livre  of  the  time  of  Louis  XVI.  is  commonly  reckoned  to  have 
had  at  least  twice  the  purchasing  power  of  the  franc  of  to-day. 


THE   CLERGY.  27 

ecclesiastics,  however,  who  lived  in  certain  provinces, 
situated  principally  in  the  northern  and  eastern  part  of 
the  country,  and  annexed  to  the  kingdom  since  the  begin- 
ning of  the  sixteenth  century,  were  called  the  "  Foreign 
Clergy."  These  did  not  share  the  rights  of  the  larger 
body,  but  depended  more  directly  on  the  papacy.  They 
paid  certain  taxes  from  which  the  Clergy  of  France  were 
exempt.  The  mode  of  appointment  to  bishoprics  and 
abbacies  was  different  among  them  from  what  it  was  in 
the  rest  of  the  country.  Throughout  France,  and  in  all 
affairs,  ecclesiastical  and  secular,  were  anomalies  such  as 
these. 

The  Church  of  France  enjoyed  great  and  peculiar  priv- 
ileges, both  among  the  churches  of  Christendom,  and 
among  the  Estates  of  the  French  realm.  By  the  Concor- 
dat, or  treaty  of  1516,  made  between  Pope  Leo  X.  and 
King  Francis  I.,  the  nomination  to  bishroprics  and  to  con- 
siderable ecclesiastical  benefices  had  been  given  to  the 
king,  while  the  Holy  Father  kept  only  a  right  of  veto  on 
appointments.  The  annates^  or  first-fruits  of  the.  bishop- 
rics, taxes  equal  in  theory  to  one  year's  revenue  on  every 
change  of  incumbent,  but  in  fact  of  less  amount  than  that, 
were  paid  to  the  Pope,  and  these,  with  other  dues,  made 
up  a  sum  of  three  or  four  million  livres  sent  annually 
from  France  to  Rome.  On  the  other  hand,  the  Clergy  of 
France  was  the  only  body  in  the  state  which  had  undis- 
puted constitutional  rights  independent  of  the  throne.  It's 
ordinary  assemblies  were  held  once  in  ten  years.  The 
country  was  divided  into  sixteen  ecclesiastical  provinces, 
each  under  the  superintendence  of  an  archbishop.  In 
each  of  these  provinces  a  meeting  was  held,  composed  of 
delegates  of  the  various  dioceses.  Each  of  these  provin- 
cial meetings  elected  two  bishops  and  two  other  ecclesias- 
tics, either  regular  or  secular.  These  deputies  received, 
from  their  constituents,  instructions  called  cahiers^  to  be 
taken  by  them  to  the  Ordinary  Assembly  of  the  clergy, 


28      THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

whicli  was  held  in  Paris.  This  body  granted  subsidies  to 
the  king,  managed  the  debt  and  other  secular  affairs  of 
the  clergy,  and  pronounced  unofficially  even  in  matters 
of  doctrine.  Smaller  Assemblies,  nearly  equal  in  power, 
came  together  at  least  once  during  the  interval  which 
elapsed  between  the  meetings  of  the  Ordinary  Assemblies ; 
so  that  as  often  as  once  in  five  years  the  Church  of  France 
exercised  a  true  political  activity.  The  sum  voted  to  the 
king  was  called  a  Free  Gift,^  and  the  name  was  not  alto- 
gether inappropriate,  for,  although  the  amount  required 
was  stated  by  the  king's  ministers,  conditions  were  not 
infrequently  exacted  of  the  crown.  Thus  in  1785,  on  the 
occasion  of  a  gift  of  eighteen  million  livres,  the  suppres- 
sion of  the  works  of  Voltaire  was  demanded.  And  once 
at  least,  as  late  as  1750,  on  the  occasion  of  a  squabble  be- 
tween the  church  and  the  court,  the  clergy  had  refused 
to  make  any  grant  whatsoever.  The  total  amount  of  the 
Free  Gift  voted  during  the  reign  of  Louis  XVI.  was 
65,800,000  livres,  or  less  than  four  and  a  half  millions  a 
year  on  an  average.  Th©  grant  was  not  annual,  but  was 
made  in  lump  sums  from  time  to  time;  a  vote  of  two 
thirds  of  the  assembly  being  necessary  for  making  it.  The 
assembly  itself  assessed  the  tax  on  the  dioceses.  A  com- 
mission managed  the  affairs  of  the  clergy  when  no  assem- 
bly was  sitting.  The  order  had  its  treasury,  and  its  credit 
was  good.  The  king  was  its  debtor  to  the  extent  of  about 
a  hundred  million  livres. 

The  clergy  itself  was  in  debt.  Instead  of  raising  di- 
rectly, by  taxation  of  its  members,  the  money  which  it 
paid  to  the  state,  it  had  acquired  the  habit  of  borrowing 
the  necessary  sum.  The  debt  thvis  incurred  appears  to 
have  been  about  one  hundred  and  thirty-four  million 
livres.  In  addition  to  the  amount  necessary  for  interest 
on  this  debt,  and  for  a  provision  for  its  gradual  repay- 
ment, the  order  had  various  expenses  to  meet.  For  these 
^  Don  Gratuit. 


THE   CLERGY.  29 

purposes  it  taxed  itself  to  an  amount  of  more  than  ten 
million  livi-es  a  year.  On  the  other  hand  it  received  back 
from  the  king  a  subsidy  of  two  and  a  half  million  livres. 
From  most  of  the  regular,  direct  taxes  paid  by  French- 
men the  Clergy  of  France  was  freed.  ^ 

The  bishops  were  not  subject  to  the  secular  tribunals, 
but  other  clerks  came  under  the  royal  jurisdiction  in  tem- 
poral matters.  In  spiritual  affairs  they  were  judged  by 
the  ecclesiastical  courts. 

The  income  of  the  clergy,  had  it  been  fairly  distributed, 
was  amply  sufficient  for  the  support  of  every  one  connected 
with  the  order.  It  was,  however,  divided  with  great  par- 
tiality. There  were  set  over  the  clergy,  both  French  and 
foreign,  eighteen  archbishops  and  a  hundred  and  twenty- 
one  bishops,  beside  eleven  of  those  bishops  in  iKirtibus 
injidelium,  who,  having  no  sees  of  their  own  in  France, 
might  be  expected  to  make  themselves  generally  useful. 
These  hundred  and  fifty  bishops  were  very  highly,  though 
unequally  paid.  The  bishoprics,  with  a  very  few  excep- 
tions, were  reserved  for  members  of  the  nobility,  and  this 
rule  was  quite  as  strictly  enforced  under  Louis  XVI.  as 
under  any  of  his  predecessors.  Nothing  prevented  the 
cumulation  of  ecclesiastical  benefices,  and  that  prelate 
was  but  a  poor  courtier  who  did  not  enjoy  the  revenue  of 
several  rich  abbeys.  Nor  was  it  in  money  and  in  eccle- 
siastical preferment  alone  that  the  bishops  were  paid  for 
the  services  which  they  too  often  neglected  to  perform. 

1  Revue  des  questions  historiques,  1st  July,  1890  (L'ahbd  L.  Bour- 
gain,  Contribution  du  clerge  a  Vimpot).  Scioiit,  i.  35.  Boiteau,  195. 
Rambaud,  ii.  4-1.  ^ec'kev,DeV Administration,  ii.  308.  The  financial 
statement  given  above  refers  to  the  Cler^^^y  of  France  only.  Its  pecu- 
niary affairs  are  as  difficult  and  doubtful  as  those  of  every  part  of 
the  nation  at  this  period,  and  have  repeatedly  been  made  the  sub- 
ject of  confused  statement  and  religious  and  political  controversy. 
The  Foreign  Clergy  paid  some  of  the  regular  taxes,  giving  the  state 
about  one  million  livres  a  year  on  an  income  of  twenty  million  livres. 
Boiteau,  190. 


30  THE   EVE   OF  THE   FRENCH   REVOLUTION. 

Not  a  few  of  them  were  barons,  counts,  dukes,  princes  of 
the  Holy  Roman  Empire,  or  peers  of  France  by  virtue  of 
their  sees.  Several  rose  to  be  ministers  of  state.  Even 
in  that  age  they  were  accused  of  worldliness.  It  was  a 
proverb  that  with  Spanish  bishops  and  French  priests  an 
excellent  clergy  could  be  made.  But  not  all  the  French 
bishops  were  worldly,  nor  neglectful  of  their  spiritual 
duties.  Among  them  might  be  found  conscientious  and 
serious  prelates,  abounding  both  in  faith  and  good  works, 
living  simply  and  bestowing  their  wealth  in  charity.  ^ 

After  the  bishops  came  the  abbots.  As  their  offices 
were  in  the  gift  of  the  king,  and  as  no  discipline  was  en- 
forced upon  them,  they  were  chiefly  to  be  found  in  the 
antechambers  of  Versailles  and  in  the  drawing-rooms  of 
Paris.  They  were  not  even  obliged  to  be  members  of  the 
religious  orders  they  were  supposed  to  govern.^  Leaving 
the  charge  of  their  monasteries  to  the  priors,  they  spent 
the  incomes  where  new  preferment  was  to  be  looked  for, 
and  devoted  their  time  to  intrigues  rather  than  to  prayers. 
No  small  part  of  the  revenues  of  the  clergy  was  wasted  in 
the  dissipations  of  these  ecclesiastic  courtiers.  They  were 
imitated  in  their  vices  by  a  rabble  of  priests  out  of  place, 
to  whom  the  title  of  abbot  was  given  in  politeness,  the 
little  abUs  of  French  biography  and  fiction.  These  men 
lived  in  garrets,  haunted  cheap  eating-houses,  and  ap- 
peared on  certain  days  of  the  week  at  rich  men's  tables, 
picking  up  a  living  as  best  they  could.  They  were  to  be 
seen  among  the  tradesmen  and  suitors  who  crowded  the 
levees  of  the  great,  distinguishable  in  the  throng  by  their 
black  clothes,  and  a  very  small  tonsure.     They  attended 

1  Rambaud,  ii.  37.  Mathieu,  151. 

2  The  abbots  of  abbeys  en  commende  were  appointed  by  the  king. 
These  appear  to  have  been  most  of  the  rich  abbeys.  There  were 
also  ahhayes  regulieres,  where  the  abbot  was  elected  by  the  brethren- 
Rambaud,  ii.  53.  The  revenues  of  the  monasteries  w^ere  divided  into 
two  parts,  the  mense  abbatiale,  for  the  abbot,  the  mense  conventuelle,  foi 
the  brethren.     Mathieu,  73. 


THE   CLERGY.  31 

the  toilets  of  fashionable  ladies,  ever  ready  with  the  last 
bit  of  literary  gossip,  or  of  social  scandal.  They  sought 
employment  as  secretaries,  or  as  writers  for  the  press. 
The  church,  or  indeed,  the  opposite  party,  eoidd  find 
literary  champions  among  them  at  a  moment's  notice. 
Nor  was  hope  of  professional  preferment  always  lacking. 
It  is  said  that  one  of  the  number  kept  an  ecclesiastical 
intelligence  office.  This  man  was  acquainted  with  the 
incumbents  of  valuable  livings;  he  watched  the  state  of 
their  health,  and  calculated  the  chances  of  death  among 
them.  He  knew  what  patrons  were  likely  to  have  pre- 
ferment to  give  away,  and  how  those  patrons  were  to  be 
reached.  His  couriers  were  ever  on  the  road  to  Rome, 
for  the  Pope  still  had  the  gift  of  many  rich  places  in 
France,  in  spite  of  the  Concordat.^ 

Another  large  part  of  the  revenues  of  the  church  was 
devoted  to  the  support  of  the  convents.  These  contained 
from  sixty  to  seventy  thousand  persons,  more  of  them 
women  than  men.  Owing  to  various  causes,  and  especially 
to  the  action  of  a  commission  appointed  to  examine  all 
convents,  and  to  reform,  close,  or  consolidate  such  as 
might  need  to  be  so  treated,  the  number  of  regiilar  reli- 
gious persons  fell  off  more  than  one  half  during  the  last 
twenty-five  years  of  the  monarchy.  Yet  many  of  the 
functions  which  in  modern  countries  are  left  to  private 
charity,  or  to  the  direct  action  of  the  state,  were  performed 
in  old  France  by  persons  of  this  kind.  The  care  of  the 
poor  and  sick  and  the  education  of  the  young  were 
largely,  although  not  entirely,  in  the  hands  of  religious 
orders.  Some  monks,  like  the  Benedictines  of  St.  Maur, 
devoted  their  lives  to  the  advancement  of  learninef.  But 
there  were  also  monks  and  nuns  who  rendered  no  services 
to  the  public,  and  were  entirely  occupied  with  their  own 
spiritual  and  temporal  interests,  giving  alms,  perhaps, 
but  only  incidentally,  like  other  citizens.  Against  these 
*  Mercier,  ix.  350. 


32      THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

the  indignation  of  the  French  Philosophers  was  much  ex- 
cited.  Their  celibacy  was  attacked,  as  contrary  to  the 
interests  of  the  state;  they  were  accused  of  laziness  and 
greed.  How  far  were  the  Philosophers  right  in  their  op- 
position? It  is  impossible  to  discuss  in  detail  here  the 
policy  of  allowing  or  discouraging  religious  corporations 
in  a  state.  Should  men  and  women  be  permitted  to  retire 
from  the  struggles  and  duties  of  active  life  in  the  world? 
Is  the  monastery,  with  its  steady  and  depressing  routine, 
its  religious  observances,  often  mechanical,  and  its  quiet 
life,  more  or  less  degrading  than  the  wearing  toil  of  the 
world  without,  and  the  coarse  pleasures  of  the  club  or 
the  tavern?  Is  it  better  that  a  woman,  whom  choice  or 
necessity  has  deprived  of  every  probability  of  governing 
a  home  of  her  own,  should  struggle  against  the  chances 
and  temptations  of  city  life,  or  the  constant  drudgery 
of  spinsterhood  in  the  country;  or  that  she  should  find 
the  stupefying  protection  of  a  convent  ?  These  questions 
have  seldom  been  answered  entirely  on  their  own  merits. 
They  have  presented  themselves  in  company  with  others 
even  more  important ;  with  questions  of  freedom  of  con- 
science and  of  national  existence.  The  time  seems  not 
far  distant  when  they  must  be  reconsidered  for  their  own 
sake.  Already  in  France  the  persons  leading  a  monastic 
life  are  believed  to  be  twice  as  numerous  as  they  were  at 
the  outbreak  of  the  Revolution.  It  is  difficult  to  ascer- 
tain the  number  in  our  own  country,  but  it  is  not  incon- 
siderable.^ 

A  pleasant  life  the  inmates  of  some  convents  must  have 
had  of  it.    The  incomes  were  large,  the  duties  easy.    Cer- 

1  Rambaud  (ii.  52  and  n.)  reckons  100,000  in  the  18th  century  and 
158,500  to-day  in  France,  but  the  figures  for  the  last  century  are  prob- 
ably too  high,  at  least  if  1788  be  taken  as  the  point  of  comparison. 
Sadlier's  Catholic  Directory,  1885,  p.  IIG,  gives  the  number  of  Catho- 
lic religious  in  the  Archdiocese  of  New  York  at  117  regular  priests, 
271  brothers,  2136  religious  women,  in  addition  to  279  secular  priests, 


THE   CLERGY.  33 

tain  houses  had  been  secularized  and  turned  into  noble 
chapters.  The  ladies  who  inhabited  them  were  freed  from 
the  vow  of  poverty.  They  wore  no  religious  vestment, 
but  appeared  in  the  fashionable  dress  of  the  day.  They 
received  their  friends  in  the  convent,  and  could  leave  it 
themselves  to  reenter  the  secular  life,  and  to  marry  if  they 
pleased.  Such  a  chapter  was  that  of  Remiremont  in  Lor- 
raine, whose  abbess  was  a  princess  of  the  Holy  Roman 
Empire,  by  virtue  of  her  office.  Her  crook  was  of  gold. 
Six  horses  were  harnessed  to  her  carriage.  Her  dominion 
extended  over  two  hundred  villages,  whose  inhabitants 
paid  her  both  feudal  dues  and  ecclesiastical  tithes.  Nor 
were  her  duties  onerous.  She  spent  a  large  part  of  her 
time  in  Strasburg,  and  went  to  the  theatre  without  scru- 
ple. She  traveled  a  good  deal  in  the  neighborhood,  and 
was  a  familiar  figure  at  some  of  the  petty  courts  on  the 
Rhine.  The  canonesses  followed  her  good  example. 
Some  of  them  were  continually  on  the  road.  Others 
stayed  at  home  in  the  convent,  and  entertained  much  good 
company.  They  dressed  like  other  people,  in  the  fashion, 
with  nothing  to  mark  their  religious  calling  but  a  broad 
ribbon  over  the  right  shoulder,  blue  bordered  with  red, 
supporting  a  cross,  with  a  figure  of  Saint  Romaric.  No 
lady  was  received  into  this  chapter  who  could  not  show 
nine  generations  or  two  hundred  and  twenty-five  years  of 
chivalric,  noble  descent,  both  on  the  father's  and  on  the 
mother's  side. 

Such  requirements  as  this  were  extreme,  but  similar 
conditions  were  not  unusual.  The  Benedictines  of  Saint 
Claude,  transformed  into  a  chapter  of  canonesses,  required 
sixteen  quarterings  for  admission;  that  is  to  say,  that 
every  canoness  must  show  by  proper  heraldic  proof,  that 
her  sixteen  great  -  grandfathers  and  great  -  grandmothers 
were  of  noble  blood.  The  Knights  of  Malta  required 
but  four  quarterings.  They  had  two  hundred  and  twenty 
commanderies   in   France,   with  eight  hundred  Knights. 


34      THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

The  Grand  Priory  gave  an  income  of  sixty  thousand  livres 
to  the  Prior,  who  was  always  a  prince.  The  revenues  of 
the  order  were  1,750,000  livres. 

But  very  rich  monasteries  were  exceptional  after  all. 
Those  where  life  was  hard  and  labor  continuous  were  far 
more  common.  In  some  of  them,  forty  men  would  be 
found  living  on  a  joint  income  of  six  thousand  livres  a 
year.  They  cultivated  the  soil,  they  built,  they  dug. 
They  were  not  afraid  of  great  undertakings  in  architecture 
or  engineering,  to  be  accomplished  only  after  long  years 
and  generations  of  labor,  for  was  not  their  corporation 
immortal?  Then  we  have  the  begging  orders,  infesting 
the  roads  and  villages,  and  drawing  several  million  livres 
a  year  from  the  poorer  classes,  which  supported  and  grum- 
bled at  them.  And  against  the  luxury  of  the  noble  chap- 
ters must  be  set  the  silence,  the  vigils,  the  fasts  of  La 
Trappe.  This  monastery  stood  in  a  gloomy  valley,  sunk 
among  wooded  hills.  The  church  and  the  surrounding 
buildings  were  mostly  old,  and  all  sombre  and  uninviting. 
Each  narrow  cell  was  furnished  with  but  a  mattress,  a 
blanket  and  a  table,  without  chair  or  fire.  The  monks 
were  clad  in  a  robe  and  a  hood,  and  wore  shoes  and  stock- 
ings, but  had  neither  shirt  nor  breeches.  They  shaved 
three  times  a  year.  Their  food  consisted  of  boiled  vege- 
tables, with  salad  once  a  week ;  never  any  butter  nor  eggs. 
Twice  in  the  night  they  rose,  and  hastened  shivering  to  the 
chapel.  Never  did  they  speak,  but  to  their  confessor; 
until,  in  his  last  hour,  each  was  privileged  to  give  to  the 
prior  his  dying  messages.  Hither,  from  the  active  and 
gay  world  of  philosophy  and  frivolity  would  suddenly 
retire  from  time  to  time  some  young  officer,  scholar,  or 
courtier.  Here,  bound  by  irrevocable  vows,  he  could 
weep  over  his  sins,  or  gnash  his  teeth  at  the  folly  that  had 
brought  him,  until  he  found  peace  at  last  in  life  or  in  the 
grave. 

To  enjoy  the  temporal  privileges  of  the  religious  life 


THE   CLERGY.  35 

neither  any  great  age  nor  any  extensive  learning  was  re- 
quired. To  hold  a  cure  of  souls  or  the  abbacy  of  a  "  reg- 
ular" convent  (whose  inmates  chose  their  abbot),  a  man 
must  be  twenty -five  years  old.  But  an  abbot  appointed 
by  the  king  need  only  be  twenty -two,  a  canon  of  a  cathe- 
dral fourteen,  and  a  chaplain  seven.  It  cannot  be  doubted 
that  persons  of  either  sex  were  obliged  to  make  irrevoca- 
ble vows,  without  any  proof  of  free  vocation,  or  any  rea- 
son to  expect  a  fixed  resolution.  Daughters  and  younger 
sons  could  thus  be  conveniently  disposed  of.  A  larger 
share  was  left  for  the  family,  for  the  religious  were  civilly 
dead,  and  did  not  take  part  in  the  inheritance.  On  the 
other  hand,  misfortune  and  want  need  not  be  feared  for 
the  inmate  of  the  convent.  If  a  nun  were  lost  to  the  joys 
of  the  world,  she  was  lost  to  its  cares.  To  make  such  a 
choice,  to  commit  temporal  suicide,  the  very  young  should 
surely  not  be  admitted.  Yet  it  was  not  until  1768  that 
the  time  for  taking  final  vows  was  advanced  to  the  very 
moderate  age  of  twenty-one  for  young  men  and  eighteen 
for  girls. ^ 

The  secular  clergy  was  about  as  numerous  as  the  regu- 
lar. It  was  principally  composed  of  the  cures  and  vicaires 
who  had  charge  of  parishes. ^  These  men  were  mostly 
drawn  from  the  lower  classes  of  society,  or  at  any  rate  not 
from  the  nobility.  They  had  therefore  very  little  chance 
of  promotion.  Some  of  them  in  the  country  districts  were 
very  poor;  for  the  great  tithes,  levied  on  the  principal 
crops,  generally  belonged  to  the  bishops,  to  the  convents 

1  Rambaud,  ii.  45.  Mathieu,  43.  Chassin,  25.  Boiteau,  176.  Bailly, 
421.  Mme.  d'Oberkirch,  127.  Mme.  de  Genlis,  Diet,  des  Etiquettes, 
i.  Ill  n.,  Le  Comte  de  Fersen  et  la  Cour  de  France,  I.  xxix.  Mercier, 
xi.  358. 

2  The  bishops,  of  course,  belonged  to  the  secular  clergy.  So,  in 
fact,  did  the  canons  ;  who,  on  account  of  the  similarity  of  their  mode 
of  life,  have  been  treated  with  the  regulars.  In  the  French  hierarchy 
the  cure  comes  above  the  vicaire.  The  relation  is  somewhat  that  of 
parson  and  curate  iu  the  church  of  England. 


36  THE   EVE   OF   THE   FKENCH   REVOLUTION. 

of  regulars,  or  to  laymen ;  and  only  the  lesser  tithes,  the 
occasional  fees,i  and  the  product  of  a  small  glebe  were 
reserved  for  the  parish  priest,  and  the  latter  was  liable 
to  continual  squabbles  with  the  peasants  concerning  his 
dues.  But  the  parish  priest,  with  all  other  churchmen, 
was  exempt  from  the  state  taxes,  although  obliged  to  pay 
a  proportion  of  the  cUchnes,^  or  special  tax  laid  by  the 
clergy  on  their  own  order.  Moreover,  the  government  set 
a  minimum  ;  ^  and  if  the  income  of  the  parish  priest  fell 
below  it,  the  owner  of  the  great  tithes  was  bound  to  make 
up  the  difference.  This  minimum  was  set  at  five  hundred 
livres  a  year  for  a  cure  in  1768,  and  raised  to  seven  hun- 
dred in  1785.  A  vicaire  received  two  hundred  and  three 
hundred  and  fifty.  These  amounts  do  not  seem  large,  but 
they  must  have  secured  to  the  country  priest  a  tolerable 
condition,  for  we  do  not  find  that  the  clerical  profession 
was  neglected. 

Apart  from  considerations  of  material  well  being,  the 
condition  of  the  parish  priest  was  not  undesirable.  He 
was  fairly  independent,  and  could  not  be  deprived  of  his 
living  without  due  process  of  law.  His  house  was  larger 
or  smaller  according  to  his  means,  but  his  authority  and 
influence  might  in  any  case  be  considerable.  He  had  more 
education  and  more  dealings  with  the  outer  world  than 
most  of  his  parishioners.  To  him  the  intendant  of  the 
province  might  apply  for  information  concerning  the  state 
of  his  village,  and  the  losses  of  the  peasants  by  fire,  or  by 
epidemics   among  their  cattle.     His  sympathy  with  his 

^  Casuel. 

2  Decime,  in  the  singular,  was  an  extraordinary  tax  levied  on  ec- 
clesiastical revenue  for  some  object  deemed  important.  Decimes,  in 
the  plural,  was  the  tax  paid  annually  by  benefices.  Dime,  tithe  (see 
Littrd,  Decime).  It  seems  a  question  whether  the  proportion  of  the 
decimes  paid  by  the  parish  priests  was  too  large.  See  Revue  des 
questions  historiques,  1st  July  1890,  102.     Necker,  De  V Administratioyi, 

a  313. 

2  Portion  congrue. 


THE   CLERGY. 


37 


fellow-villagers  was  the  warmer,  that  like  them  he  had  a 
piece  of  ground  to  till,  were  it  only  a  garden,  an  orchard, 
or  a  bit  of  vineyard.  Round  his  door,  as  round  theirs,  a 
few  hens  were  scratching;  perhaps  a  cow  lowed  from  her 
shed,  or  followed  the  village  herd  to  the  common.  The 
priest's  servant,  a  stout  lass,  did  the  milking  and  the 
weeding.  In  1788,  a  provincial  synod  was  much  dis- 
turbed by  a  motion,  made  by  some  fanatic  in  the  interest 
of  morals,  that  no  priest  should  keep  a  serving-maid  less 
than  forty -five  years  of  age.  The  rule  was  rejected  on 
the  ground  that  it  would  make  it  impossible  to  cidtivate 
the  glebes.  Undoubtedly,  the  priests  themselves  often 
tucked  up  the  skirts  of  their  cassocks,  and  lent  a  hand  in 
the  work.  They  were  treated  by  their  flocks  with  a  cer- 
tain amount  of  respectful  familiarity.  They  were  ad- 
dressed as  messire.  With  the  joys  and  sorrows  of  their 
parishioners,  their  connection  was  at  once  intimate  and 
professional.  Their  ministrations  were  sought  by  the 
sick  and  the  sad,  their  congratulations  by  the  happy.  No 
wedding  party  nor  funeral  feast  was  complete  without 
them.^ 

The  privileges  and  immunities  which  the  Church  of 
France  enjoyed  had  given  to  her  clergy  a  tone  of  indepen- 
dence both  to  the  Pope  and  to  the  king.  We  have  seen 
them  accompanying  their  "  free  gifts "  to  the  latter  by 
requests  and  conditions.  Toward  the  Holy  See  their  at- 
titude had  once  been  quite  as  bold.  In  1G82  an  assembly 
of  the  Church  of  France  had  promulgated  four  ]n"oposi- 
tions  which  were  considered  the  bulwarks  of  the  Galilean 
liberties. 

1  Turgot,  V.  364.  This  letter  is  very  interesting,  as  showing  the 
importance  of  the  cures  and  their  possible  dealings  with  the  intend- 
ant.  Mathieu,  152.  Babeau,  La  vie  rurale,  157.  A  good  study  of 
the  clergy  before  the  Revolution  is  found  in  an  article  by  Marius 
Sepet  (La  socicte  franralse  a  la  veille  de  la  revolution),  in  the  Revue 
des  questions  historiques,  1st  April  and  1st  July,  18S9. 


38      THE  EVE  OP  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

(1.)  God  has  given  to  Saint  Peter  and  his  successors 
no  power,  direct  or  indirect,  over  temporal  affairs. 

(2.)  Ecumenical  councils  are  superior  to  the  Pope  in 
spiritual  matters. 

(3.)  The  rules,  usages  and  statutes  admitted  by  the 
kingdom  and  the  Church  of  France  must  remain  invio- 
late. 

(4.)  In  matters  of  faith,  decisions  of  the  Sovereign 
Pontiff  are  irrevocable  only  after  having  received  the 
consent  of  the  church. 

These  propositions  were  undoubtedly  a  part  of  the  law 
of  France,  and  were  fully  accepted  by  a  portion  of  the 
French  clergy.  But  the  spirit  that  dictated  them  had  in 
a  measure  died  out  during  the  corrupt  reign  of  Louis 
XV.  The  long  quarrel  between  the  Jesuits  and  the  Jan- 
senists,  which  agitated  the  Gallican  church  during  the 
latter  part  of  the  seventeenth  and  the  earlier  half  of  the 
eighteenth  century,  had  tended  neither  to  strengthen  nor 
to  purify  that  body.  A  large  number  of  the  most  serious, 
intelligent  and  devout  Catholics  in  France  had  been  put 
into  opposition  to  the  most  powerful  section  of  the  clergy 
and  to  the  Pope  himself.  Thus  the  Church  of  France  was 
in  a  bad  position  to  repel  the  violent  attacks  made  upon 
her  from  without.^ 

For  a  time  of  trial  had  come  to  the  Catholic  Church, 
and  the  Church  of  France,  although  hardly  aware  of  its 
danger,  was  placed  in  the  forefront  of  battle.  It  was 
against  her  that  the  most  persistent  and  violent  assault  of 
the  Philosophers  was  directed.  Before  considering  the 
doctrines  of  those  men,  who  differed  among  themselves 
very  widely  on  many  points,  it  is  well  to  ask  what  was  the 
cause  of  the  great  excitement  which  their  doctrines  cre- 
ated. Men  as  great  have  existed  in  other  centuries,  and 
have  exercised  an  enormous  influence  on  the  human  mind. 

1  Rambaud,  ii.  40.  For  a  Catholic  account  of  the  Jansenist  quarrel, 
see  Carn^,  La  monarchie  fran<;aise  au  18me  Steele,  407. 


THE   CLERGY.  39 

But  that  influence  has  generally  been  gradual ;  percolat- 
ing slowly,  through  the  minds  of  scholars  and  thinkers,  to 
men  of  action  and  the  people.  The  intellectual  movement 
of  the  eighteenth  century  in  France  was  rapid.  It  was 
the  nature  of  the  opposition  which  they  encountered  which 
drew  popular  attention  to  the  attacks  of  the  Philosophers. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

THE   CHURCH  AND   HER  ADVERSARIES. 

The  new  birth  of  learning  in  the  fifteenth  and  sixteenth 
centuries  had  been  followed  by  the  strengthening  and  cen- 
tralization of  government,  both  in  church  and  state. 
France  had  its  full  share  of  this  change.  Its  civil  gov- 
ernment became  the  strongest  in  Europe,  putting  down 
every  breath  of  opposition.  Against  the  political  con- 
duct of  Louis  XIV.  neither  magistrate  nor  citizen  dared 
to  raise  his  voice.  The  Church  of  France,  on  the  other 
hand,  in  close  alliance  with  the  civil  power,  became  al- 
most irresistible  in  her  own  sphere.  The  Catholic  Church 
throughout  Europe  had  been  the  great  schoolmaster  of 
civilization.  It  had  fallen  into  the  common  fault  of 
schoolmasters,  the  assumption  of  infallibility.  It  was, 
moreover,  a  state  within  all  states.  Its  sovereign,  the 
Pope,  the  most  powerful  monarch  in  Christendom,  is 
chosen  in  accordance  with  a  curious  and  elaborate  set  of 
regulations,  by  electors  appointed  by  his  predecessors. 
His  rule,  nominally  despotic,  is  limited  by  powers  and 
influences  understood  by  few  persons  outside  of  his  palace. 
His  government,  although  highly  centralized,  is  yet  able 
to  work  efficiently  in  all  the  countries  of  the  earth.  It  is 
served  by  a  great  body  of  officials,  probably  less  corrupt 
on  the  whole  than  those  of  any  other  state.  They  are 
kept  in  order,  not  only  by  moral  and  spiritual  sanctions, 
but  by  a  system  of  worldly  promotion.  They  wield  over 
their  subjects  a  tremendous  weapon,  sometimes  borrowed, 
but  seldom  long  or  very  skillfully  used  by  laymen,  and 
called,    in    clerical    language,    excommunication.     This, 


THE   CHURCH   AND  HER   ADVERSARIES.  41 

when  it  is  confined  to  the  denial  of  religious  privileges, 
may  be  considered  a  spiritual  weapon.  But  in  the  eigh- 
teenth century  the  temporal  power  of  Catholic  Europe 
was  still  in  great  measure  at  the  service  of  the  ecclesias- 
tical authorities.  Obedience  to  the  church  was  a  law  of 
the  state.  Although  Frenchmen  were  no  longer  executed 
for  heresy  in  the  reign  of  Louis  XVI.,  they  still  were  per- 
secuted. The  property  of  Protestants  was  imsafe,  their 
marriages  invalid.  Their  children  might  be  taken  from 
them.  Such  toleration  as  existed  was  precarious,  and  the 
Church  of  France  was  constantly  urging  the  temporal 
government  to  take  stronger  measures  for  the  extirpation 
of  heresy. 

The  church  had  succeeded  in  implanting  in  the  minds 
of  its  votaries  one  opinion  of  enormous  value  in  its  strug- 
gle for  power.  Originally  and  proj)erly  an  association 
for  the  practice  and  spreading  of  religion,  the  corporation 
had  succeeded  in  making  itself  an  object  of  worship. 
One  great  reason  why  atheism  took  root  in  France  was 
the  impossibility,  induced  by  long  habit,  of  distinguishing 
between  religion  and  Catholicism,  and  of  conceiving  that 
the  one  may  exist  without  the  other.  The  by-laws  of  the 
church  had  become  as  sacred  as  the  primary  duties  of 
piety ;  and  the  injunction  to  refrain  from  meat  on  Fridays 
was  indistinguishable  by  most  Catholics,  in  point  of  obli- 
gation, from  the  injunction  to  love  the  Lord  their  God. 

The  Protestant  churclies  which  separated  themselves 
from  the  Church  of  Rome  in  the  sixteenth  century  carried 
with  them  much  of  the  intolerant  spirit  of  the  original 
body.  It  is  one  of  the  commonplace  sneers  of  the  unre- 
flecting to  say  that  religious  toleration  has  always  been  the 
dogma  of  the  weaker  party.  The  saying,  if  it  were  true, 
which  it  is  not,  yet  would  not  be  especially  sagacious. 
Toleration,  like  other  things,  has  been  most  sought  by 
those  whose  need  of  it  was  greatest.  But  they  have  not 
always  recognized  its  value.     It  was  no  small  step  in  the 


42      THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

progress  of  the  human  mind  that  was  taken  when  men 
came  to  look  on  religious  toleration  as  desirable  or  possi- 
ble. That  the  state  might  treat  with  equal  favor  all 
forms  of  worship  was  an  opinion  hardly  accepted  by  wise 
and  liberal-minded  men  in  the  eighteenth  century.  It 
may  be  that  the  fiery  contests  of  the  Reformation  were 
still  too  near  in  those  days  to  let  perfect  peace  be  safe 
or  profitable. 

Yet  religious  toleration  was  making  its  way  in  men's 
minds.  Cautiously,  and  with  limitations,  the  doctrine  is 
stated,  first  by  Locke,  Bayle,  and  Fenelon  in  the  last 
quarter  of  the  seventeenth  century,  then  by  almost  all  the 
great  writers  of  the  eighteenth.  The  Protestants,  with 
their  experience  of  persecution,  assert  that  those  persons 
should  not  be  tolerated  who  teach  that  faith  should  not  be 
kept  with  heretics,  or  that  kings  excommunicated  forfeit 
their  crowns  and  kingdoms;  or  who  attribute  to  them- 
selves any  peculiar  privilege  or  power  above  other  mortals 
in  civil  affairs;  in  short,  they  exclude  the  Catholics. 
Atheists  also  may  be  excluded,  as  being  under  no  possible 
conscientious  obligation  to  dogmatize  concerning  their 
negative  creed.  The  Catholics  maintain  the  right  of  the 
sovereign  to  forbid  the  use  of  ceremonies,  or  the  profes- 
sion of  opinions,  which  would  disturb  the  public  peace. 
Montesquieu,  a  nominal  Catholic  only,  declares  that  it  is 
the  fundamental  principle  of  political  laws  concerning  re- 
ligion, not  to  allow  the  establishment  of  a  new  form  if  it 
can  be  prevented;  but  when  one  is  once  established,  to 
tolerate  it.  He  refuses  to  say  that  heresy  should  not  be 
punished,  but  he  says  that  it  should  be  punished  only  with 
great  circumspection.  This  left  the  case  of  the  French 
Protestants  to  all  appearances  as  bad  as  before ;  for  the 
laws  denied  that  they  had  been  established  in  the  king- 
dom, and  the  church  always  asserted  that  it  was  mild  and 
circumspect  in  its  dealings  with  heretics.  Voltaire  will 
not  say  that  those  who  are  not  of  the  same  religion  as  the 


THE   CHURCH    AND   HER   ADVERSARIES.  43 

prince  should  share  in  the  honors  of  the  state,  or  hold 
public  office.  Such  limitations  as  these  would  seem  to 
have  deprived  toleration  of  the  greater  part  of  its  value, 
by  excluding  from  its  benefits  those  persons  who  were 
most  likely  to  be  persecuted.  But  the  statement  of  a 
great  principle  is  far  more  effectual  than  the  enumeration 
of  its  limitations.  Toleration,  eloquently  announced  as 
an  ideal,  made  its  way  in  men's  minds.  "Absolute  lib- 
erty, just  and  true  liberty,  equal  and  impartial  liberty,  is 
the  thing  we  stand  in  need  of,"  cries  Locke,  and  the  say- 
ing is  retained  when  his  exceptions  concerning  the  Cath- 
olics are  forgotten.  "When  kings  meddle  with  religion," 
says  Fenelon,  "instead  of  protecting,  they  enslave  her."  ^ 
The  Church  of  France  had  long  been  cruel  to  her 
opponents.  The  persecution  of  the  French  Protestants, 
which  preceded  and  followed  the  revocation  of  the  Edict 
of  Nantes  in  1685,  is  known  to  most  readers.  It  was  long 
and  bloody.  But  about  the  middle  of  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury it  began  to  abate.  The  last  execution  for  heresy  in 
France  appears  to  have  taken  place  in  1762.  A  Protes- 
tant meeting  was  surprised  and  attacked  by  soldiers  in 
1767.  Some  eight  or  ten  years  later  than  this,  the  last 
prisoner  for  conscience'  sake  was  released  from  the  gal- 
leys at  Toulon.  But  no  religion  except  the  Roman  Cath- 
olic was  recognized  by  the  state ;  and  to  its  clergy  alone 
were  entrusted  certain  functions  essential  to  the  conduct 
of  civilized  life.  No  marriage  could  be  legally  solem- 
nized but  by  a  Catholic  priest.  No  public  record  of  births 
was  kept  but  in  the  parish  registers.  As  a  consequence 
of  this,  no  faithful  Protestant  could  be  legally  married  at 

1  Locke,  vi.  45,  46  (Letter  on  Toleration).  Bayle,  Commentary 
on  the  Text  "  Compelle  intrare  "  (for  atheists),  ii.  431,  a.,  Fdnelon, 
(Euvres,\n.  123  {Essai philosophique  sur  le  gouvernement  civil).  Mon- 
tesquieu, CEuvres,  iv.  68  ;  v.  175  (Esprit  des  Lois,  liv.  xii.  ch.  v. 
and  liv.  xxxv.  ch.  x.).  Felice,  Voltaire,  xli.  247  (Essai  sur  la  tole- 
rance). 


44      THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

all,  and  all  children  of  Protestant  parents  were  bastards, 
whose  property  could  be  taken  from  them  by  the  nearest 
Catholic  relative.  It  is  true  that  the  courts  did  much  to 
soften  the  execution  of  these  laws;  but  the  judges,  with 
the  best  intentions,  were  sometimes  powerless;  and  all 
judges  did  not  mean  to  act  fairly  by  heretics. 

Slowly,  during  the  lifetime  of  a  generation,  the  Protes- 
tants gained  ground.  The  coronation-oath  contained  a 
clause  by  which  the  king  promised  to  exterminate  heretics. 
When  Louis  XVI.  was  to  be  crowned  at  Rheims,  Turgot 
desired  to  modify  this  part  of  the  oath.  He  drew  up  a 
new  form.  The  clergy,  however,  resisted  the  innovation, 
and  Maurepas,  the  prime  minister,  agreed  with  them. 
The  young  king,  with  characteristic  weakness,  is  said  to 
have  muttered  some  meaningless  sounds,  in  place  of  the 
disputed  portion  of  the  oath. 

In  1778,  an  attempt  was  made  to  induce  the  Parliament 
of  Paris  to  interfere  in  behalf  of  the  oppressed  sectaries. 
It  was  stated  that  since  1740,  more  than  four  hundred 
thousand  marriages  had  been  contracted  outside  of  the 
church,  and  that  these  marriages  were  void  in  law  and 
the  constant  cause  of  scandalous  suits.  But  the  Parlia- 
ment, by  a  great  majority,  rejected  the  proposal  to  apply 
to  the  king  for  relief.  In  1775,  and  again  in  1780,  the 
assembly  of  the  clergy  protested  against  the  toleration 
accorded  to  heretics.  It  is  not  a  little  curious  that  at  a 
time  when  a  measure  of  simple  humanity  was  thus  opposed 
by  the  highest  court  of  justice  in  the  realm,  and  by  the 
Church  of  France  in  its  corporate  capacity,  a  foreign 
Protestant,  Necker,  was  the  most  important  of  the  royal 
servants. 

The  spirit  of  the  church,  or  at  least  of  her  leading 
men,  is  expressed  in  the  Pastoral  Instruction  of  Lefranc 
de  Pompignan,  Archbishop  of  Vienne,  perhaps  the  most 
prominent  French  ecclesiastic  of  the  century.  The  church, 
he  says,  has  never  persecuted,  although  misguided   men 


THE   CHURCH    AND   HER   ADVERSARIES.  45 


have  done  so  in  her  name.  The  sovereign  should  main- 
tain the  true  religion,  and  is  himself  the  judge  of  the  best 
means  of  doing  it.  But  religion  sets  bounds  to  what  a 
monarch  should  do  in  her  defense.  She  does  not  ask  for 
violent  or  sanguinary  measures  against  simple  heretics. 
Such  measures  would  do  more  harm  than  good.  But 
when  men  have  the  audacity  to  exercise  a  pretended  and 
forbidden  ministry,  injurious  to  the  public  peace,  it  would 
be  absurd  to  think  that  rigorous  penalties  applied  to  their 
misdeeds  are  contrary  to  Christian  charity.  And  in  con- 
nection with  toleration,  the  prelate  brings  together  the  two 
texts,  "Judge  not,  that  ye  be  not  judged;" — "but  he 
that  believeth  not  is  condemned  already."  This  plan  of 
dealing  gently  with  Protestants,  while  so  maltreating 
their  pastors  as  to  make  public  worship  or  the  administra- 
tion of  sacraments  very  difficult,  was  a  favorite  one  with 
French  churchmen. 

The  great  Revolution  was  close  at  hand.  On  the  last 
day  of  the  first  session  of  the  Assembly  of  Notables,  in 
the  spring  of  1787,  Lafayette  proposed  to  petition  the 
king  in  favor  of  the  Protestants.  His  motion  was  received 
with  almost  unanimous  approval  by  the  committee  to  which 
it  was  made,  and  the  Count  of  Artois,  president  of  that 
committee,  carried  a  petition  to  Louis  XVI.  accordingly. 
His  Majesty  deigned  to  favor  the  proposal,  and  an  edict 
for  giving  a  civil  status  to  Protestants  was  included  in 
the  batch  of  bills  submitted  to  the  Parliament  of  Paris 
for  reo-istration.  The  measure  of  relief  was  of  the  most 
moderate  character.  It  did  not  enable  the  sectaries  of 
the  despised  religion  to  hold  any  office  in  the  state,  nor 
even  to  meet  publicly  for  worship.  Yet  the  opposition 
to  the  proposed  law  was  warm,  and  was  fomented  by  part 
of  the  nobility  and  of  the  clergy.  One  of  the  great  ladies 
of  the  court  called  on  each  counselor  of  the  Parliament, 
and  left  a  note  to  remind  him  of  his  duty  to  the  Catholic 
religion  and  the  laws.     The  Bishop  of  Dol  told  the   king 


46      THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

of  France  that  he  would  be  answerable  to  God  and  man 
for  the  misfortunes  which  the  reestablishment  of  Protes- 
tantism would  bring  on  the  kingdom.  His  Majesty's 
sainted  aunt,  according  to  the  bishop,  was  looking  down 
on  him  from  that  heaven  where  her  virtues  had  placed 
her,  and  blaming  his  conduct.  Louis  XVI.  resented  this 
language  and  found  manliness  enough  to  send  the  Bishop 
of  Dol  back  to  his  see.  On  the  19th  of  January,  1788, 
the  matter  was  warmly  debated  in  the  Parliament  itself. 
D'Espremenil,  one  of  the  counselors,  was  filled  with  ex- 
citement and  wrath  at  the  proposed  toleration.  Pointing 
to  the  image  of  Christ,  which  hung  on  the  wall  of  the 
chamber,  "would  you,"  he  indignantly  exclaimed,  "would 
you  crucify  him  again? "  But  the  appeal  of  bigotry  was 
unavailing.     The  measure  passed  by  a  large  majority.^ 

It  was  not  against  Protestants  alone  that  the  clergy 
showed  their  activity.  The  church,  in  its  capacity  of 
guardian  of  the  public  morals  and  religion,  passed  con- 
demnation on  books  supposed  to  be  hostile  to  its  claims. 
In  this  matter  it  exercised  concurrent  jurisdiction  with 
the  administrative  branch  of  the  government  and  with  the 
courts  of  law.  A  new  book  was  liable  to  undergo  a  triple 
ordeal.  A  license  was  required  before  publication,  and 
the  manuscript  was  therefore  submitted  to  an  official  cen- 
sor, often  an  ecclesiastic.  Thence  it  became  the  custom  to 
print  in  foreign  countries,  books  which  contained  any- 
thing to  which  anybody  in  authority  might  object,  and  to 
bring  them  secretly  into  France.  The  presses  of  Holland 
and  of  Geneva  were  thus  used.  Sometimes,  instead  of 
this,  a  book  would  be  published  in  Paris  with  a  foreign 

1  For  the  last  persecution  of  the  Protestants,  see  Felice,  422. 
Howard,  Lazzarettos,  55.  Coquerel,  93.  GefProy,  i.  406.  Chdrest, 
i.  45,  382.  For  the  oath,  Turgot,  i.  217  ;  vii.  314,  317.  See  also 
Dareste,  vii.  20,  Lefranc  de  Pompignan,  i.  132.  Geffroy,  i.  410  ;  ii. 
85.  Droz,  ii.  38.  Sallier,  Annales  fran<;aises,  136  n.  The  majority 
was  94  to  17.  Seven  counselors  and  three  bishops  retired  without 
voting. 


THE   CHURCH    AND   HER   ADVERSARIES.  47 

imprint.  Thus  "Boston  "  and  "Philadelphia  "  are  not  in- 
frequently found  on  the  title-pages  of  books  printed  in 
France  in  the  reign  of  Louis  XVI.  Such  books  were  sold 
secretly,  with  greater  or  less  precautions  against  discov- 
ery, for  the  laws  were  severe;  an  ordinance  passed  as 
late  as  1757  forbade,  under  penalty  of  death,  all  publica- 
tions which  might  tend  to  excite  the  public  mind.  So 
loose  an  expression  gave  discretionary  power  to  the  au- 
thorities. The  extreme  penalty  was  not  enforced,  but 
imprisonment  and  exile  were  somewhat  capriciously  in- 
flicted on  authors  and  printers. 

But  a  book  that  had  received  the  imprimatur  of  the 
censor  was  not  yet  safe.  The  clergy  might  denounce,  or 
the  Parliament  condemn  it.  The  church  was  quick  to 
scent  danger.  An  honest  scholar,  an  upright  and  original 
thinker,  could  hardly  escape  the  reproach  of  irreligion  or 
of  heresy.  Nor  were  the  laws  fairly  administered.  It 
might  be  more  dangerous  to  be  supposed  to  allude  dis- 
agreeably to  the  mistress  of  a  prince,  than  to  attack  the 
government  of  the  kingdom.  Had  a  severe  law  been 
severely  and  consistently  enforced,  slander,  heresy,  and 
political  thought  might  have  been  stamped  out  together. 
Such  was  in  some  measure  the  case  in  the  reign  of  Louis 
XIV.  But  under  the  misrule  of  the  courtiers  of  his 
feeble  successors,  no  strict  law  was  adhered  to.  There 
was  a  common  tendency  to  wink  at  illegal  writings  of 
which  half  the  public  approved.  Malesherbes,  for  in- 
stance, was  at  one  time  at  the  head  of  the  official  censors. 
He  is  said  to  have  had  a  way  of  warning  authors  and  pub- 
lishers the  day  before  a  descent  was  to  be  made  upon  their 
houses.  Under  laws  thus  enforced,  authors  who  held  new 
doctrines  learned  to  adapt  their  methods  to  those  of  the 
government.  Almost  all  the  great  French  writers  of  the 
eighteenth  century  framed  some  passages  in  their  books 
for  the  purpose  of  satisfying  the  censor  or  of  avoiding 
punislmient.    They  were  profuse  in  expressions  of  loyalty 


48  ,   .  THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

to  church  and  state,  in  passages  sometimes  sounclitig  lu- 
dicrously hollow,   sometimes  conveying  the  most  biting 
mockery  and  satire,   and   again  in    words  hardly  to  be 
distinguished  from  the  heartfelt  language  of  devotion. 
They  became  skillful  at  hinting,  and  masters  of  the  art  of 
innuendo.     They  attacked  Christianity  under  the  name  of 
Mahometanism,  and  if  they  had  occasion  to  blame  French 
ministers  of  state,  would  seem  to  be  satirizing  the  viziers 
of  Turkey.     Politics  and  theology  are  subjects  of  un- 
ceasing and  vivid  interest,  and  their  discussion  cannot  be 
suppressed,  unless  minds  are  to  be  smothered  altogether. 
If  any  measure  of  free  thought  and  speech  is  to  be  ad- 
mitted,  the  engrossing  topics  will   find   expression.     If 
people  are  not  allowed  pamphlets  and  editorials,  they  will 
bring  out  their  ideas  in  poems  and  fables.     Under  Louis 
XV.  and  Loiiis  XVI.,  politics  took  possession  of  popular 
songs,  and  theology  of  every  conceivable  kind  of  writing. 
There  was  hardly  an  advertisement  of  the  virtues  of  a 
quack  medicine,  or  a  copy  of  verses  to  a  man's  mistress, 
that  did  not  contain  a  fling  at  the  church  or  the  govern- 
ment.    There  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  moral  nature  of 
authors  and  of  the  public  suffered  in  such  a  course.     Books 
lost  some  of  their  real  value.     But  for  a  time  an  element 
of  excitement  was  added  to  the  pleasure  both  of  writers 
and  readers.     The  author  had  all  the  advantage  of  being 
persecuted,  with  the  pleasing  assurance  that  the  persecu- 
tion would  not  go  very  far.     The  reader,  while  perusing 
what  seemed  to  him  true  and  right,  enjoyed  the  satisfac- 
tion of  holding  a  forbidden  book.     He  had  the  amusement 
of  eating  stolen  fruit,  and  the  inward  conviction  that  it 
agreed  with  him.^ 

The  writers  who  adopted  this  course  are  mostly  known 
as  the  "Philosophers."     It  is  hard  to  be  consistent  in  the 

1  Lomdnie,  Vie  de  Beaumarchais,  i.  324.  Montesquieu,  i.  464  (Let- 
tres  persanes,  cxlv.).  Mirabeau,  Vami  des  hommes,  238  (pt.  ii.  ch. 
iv.).     Anciennes  Lois,  xxii.  272.     Laufrey,  193. 


THE   CHURCH    AND    HER   ADVERSARIES.  49 

use  of  this  word  as  applied  to  Frenchmen  of  the  eigh- 
teenth century.  The  name  was  sometimes  given  to  all 
those  who  advocated  reform  or  alteration  in  church  or 
state.  In  its  stricter  application,  it  belongs  to  a  party 
among  them;  to  Voltaire  and  his  immediate  followers, 
and  especially  to  the  Encyclopaedists. 

"Never,"  says  Voltaire,  in  his  "English  Letters,"  "will 
our  philosophers  make  a  religious  sect,  for  they  are  with- 
out enthusiasm."  This  was  a  favorite  idea  with  the  dis- 
ciples of  the  great  cynic,  but  the  event  has  disproved  its 
truth.  The  Philosophers  in  Voltaire's  lifetime  formed  a 
sect,  although  it  could  hardly  be  called  a  religious  one. 
The  Patriarch  of  Ferney  himself  was  something  not  un- 
like its  pontiff.  Diderot  and  d' Alembert  were  its  bishops, 
with  their  attendant  clergy  of  Encyclopaedists.  Helvetius 
and  Holbach  were  its  doctors  of  atheology.  Most  reading 
and  thinkino:  Frenchmen  were  for  a  time  its  members. 
Eousseau  was  its  arch-heretic.  The  doctrines  were  ma- 
terialism, fatalism,  and  hedonism.  The  sect  still  exists. 
It  has  adhered,  from  the  time  of  its  formation,  to  a  curi- 
ous notion,  its  favorite  superstition,  which  may  be  ex- 
pressed somewhat  has  follows:  "Human  reason  and  good 
sense  were  first  invented  from  thirty  to  fifty  years  ago." 
"When  we  consider,"  says  Voltaire,  "that  Newton, 
Locke,  Clarke  and  Leibnitz,  would  have  been  persecuted 
in  France,  imprisoned  at  Rome,  burnt  at  Lisbon,  what 
must  we  think  of  human  reason  ?  It  was  born  in  Eng- 
land within  this  century."  ^  And  similar  expressions  are 
frequent  in  his  writings.  The  sectaries,  from  that  day  to 
this,  have  never  been  wanting  in  the  most  glowing  enthu- 
siasm.    In  this  respect  they  generally  surpass  the  Catho- 

1  Voltaire  (Geneva  ed.  1771)  xv.  99  (Newton).  Also  (Beuehot's 
ed.)  XV.  351  (Essai  sur  les  Moeurs)  and  passim.  The  date  usually 
set  by  Voltaire's  modern  followers  is  that  of  the  publication  of  the 
Origin  of  Species  ;  althoun^h  no  error  is  more  opposed  than  this  one 
to  the  great  theory  of  evolution. 


60      THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

lies ;  in  fanaticism  (or  the  quality  of  being  cocksure)  the 
Protestants.  They  hold  toleration  as  one  of  their  chief 
tenets,  but  never  undertake  to  conceal  their  contempt  for 
any  one  who  disagrees  with  them.  The  sect  has  always 
contained  many  useful  and  excellent  persons,  and  some  of 
the  most  dogmatic  of  mankind. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  CHURCH  AND  VOLTAHIE. 

The  enemies  of  the  Church  of  France  were  many  and 
bitter,  but  one  man  stands  out  prominent  among  them. 
Voltaire  was  a  poet,  much  admired  in  his  day,  an  in- 
dustrious and  talented  historian,  a  writer  on  all  sorts  of 
subjects,  a  wit  of  dazzling  brilliancy;  but  he  was  first, 
last,  and  always  an  enemy  of  the  Catholic  Church,  and 
although  not  quite  an  atheist,  an  opponent  of  all  forms  of 
religion.  For  more  than  forty  years  he  was  the  head  of 
the  party  of  the  Philosophers.  During  all  that  time  he 
was  the  most  conspicuous  of  literary  Frenclunen.  Two 
others,  Eousseau  and  Montesquieu,  may  rival  him  in 
influence  on  the  modern  world,  but  his  followers  in  the 
regions  of  thought  are  numerous  and  aggressive  to-day. 

Voltaire  was  born  in  1694,  the  son  of  a  lawyer  named 
Arouet.  There  are  doubts  as  to  the  origin  of  the  name 
he  has  made  so  famous ;  whether  it  was  derived  from  a 
fief  possessed  by  his  mother,  or  from  an  anagram  of 
Arouet  Le  Jeune.  At  any  rate,  the  name  was  adopted 
by  the  young  poet,  at  his  own  fancy,  a  case  not  without 
parallel  in  the  eighteenth  century.^ 

Voltaire  began  early  to  attract  public  attention.  Be- 
fore he  was  twenty -five  years  old  he  had  established  his 
reputation  as  a  wit,  had  spent  nearly  a  year  in  the  Bastile 
on  a  charge  of  writing  satirical  verses,  and  had  produced 
a  successful  tragedy.  In  this  play  a  couplet  sneering  at 
priests  might  possibly  have  become  a  familiar  quotation 

1  As  in  the  case  of  D'Alembert.  For  Voltaire's  name,  see  Des- 
noiresterres,  Jeunesse  de  Voltaire^  IGl. 


62      THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

even  liad  it  been  written  by  another  pen.^  For  several 
years  Yoltaire  went  on  writing,  with  increasing  reputa- 
tion. In  1723,  his  great  epic  poem,  "La  Henriade,"  was 
secretly  circulated  in  Paris. ^  The  author  was  one  of  the 
marked  men  of  the  town.  At  the  same  time  his  reputa- 
tion must  have  been  to  some  extent  that  of  a  troublesome 
fellow.  And  in  December  of  that  year  an  event  occurred 
which  was  destined  to  drive  the  rising  author  from  France 
for  several  years,  and  add  bitterness  to  a  mind  naturally 
acid. 

The  details  of  the  story  are  variously  told.  It  appears 
that  Voltaire  was  one  evening  at  the  theatre  behind  the 
scenes,  and  had  a  dispute  with  the  Chevalier  de  Chabot, 
of  the  family  of  Rohan.  "Monsieur  de  Voltaire,  Mon- 
sieur Arouet,  what 's  your  name!  "  the  chevalier  is  said  to 
have  called  out.  "My  name  is  not  a  great  one,  but  I  am 
no  discredit  to  it,"  answered  the  author.  Chabot  lifted 
his  cane,  Voltaire  laid  his  hand  on  his  sword.  Mademoi- 
selle Lecouvreur,  the  actress,  for  whose  benefit,  perhaps, 
the  little  dispute  was  enacted,  took  occasion  to  faint. 
Chabot  went  off,  muttering  something  about  a  stick. 

A  few  days  later,  Voltaire  was  dining  at  the  house  of 
the  Duke  of  Sulli.  A  servant  informed  him  that  some  one 
wanted  to  see  him  at  the  door.  So  Voltaire  went  out, 
and  stepped  quietly  up  to  a  coach  that  was  standing  in 
front  of  the  house.  As  he  put  his  head  in  at  the  coach 
door,  he  was  seized  by  the  collar  of  his  coat  and  held  fast, 
while  two  men  came  up  beliind  and  belabored  him  with 
sticks.  The  Chevalier  de  Chabot,  his  noble  adversary, 
was  looking  on  from  another  carriage. 

When  the  tormentors  let  him  go,  Voltaire  rushed  back 
into  the  house  and  appealed  to  the  Duke  of  Sulli  for  ven- 

1  GSdipe,  written  in  1718. 

"  Nos  prttres  ne  sont  point  ce  qu'iin  vain  peuple  pense ; 
N6tre  crt5dulitt5  fait  toute  leur  science." 

Act  IV.,    Scene  I. 
*  Desnoiresterres,  Jeunesse,  297. 


THE   CHURCH   AND   VOLTAIRE.  53 

geance,  but  in  vain.  It  was  no  small  matter  to  quarrel 
with  the  family  of  Rohan.  Then  the  poet  applied  to  the 
court  for  redress,  but  got  none.  It  is  said  that  Voltaire's 
enemies  had  persuaded  the  prime  minister  that  his  peti- 
tioner was  the  author  of  a  certain  epigram,  addressed  to 
His  Excellency's  mistress,  in  which  she  was  reminded 
that  it  is  easy  to  deceive  a  one-eyed  Argus.  (The  min- 
ister had  but  one  eye.)  Finally  Voltaire,  seeing  that  no 
one  else  would  take  up  his  quarrel,  began  to  take  fencing 
lessons  and  to  keep  boisterous  company.  It  is  probable 
that  he  would  have  made  little  use  of  any  skill  he  might 
have  acquired  as  a  swordsman.  Voltaire  was  not  physi- 
cally rash.  The  Chevalier  de  Chabot,  although  he  held 
the  commission  of  a  staff-officer,  was  certainly  no  braver 
than  his  adversary,  and  was  in  a  position  to  take  no  risks. 
Voltaire  was  at  first  watched  by  the  police ;  then,  perhaps 
after  sending  a  challenge,  locked  up  in  the  Bastile.  He 
remained  in  that  state  prison  for  about  a  fortnight,  re- 
ceiving his  friends  and  dining  at  the  governor's  table. 
On  the  5th  of  May,  1726,  he  was  at  Calais  on  his  way  to 
exile  in  England.^ 

Voltaire  spent  three  years  in  England,  years  which 
exercised  a  deep  influence  on  his  life.  He  learned  the 
English  language  exceptionally  well,  and  practiced  writ- 
ing it  in  prose  and  verse.  He  associated  on  terms  of 
intimacy  with  Lord  Bolingbroke,  whom  he  had  already 
known  in  France,  with  Swift,  Pope,  and  Gay.  He  drew 
an  epigram  from  Young.  He  brought  out  a  new  and 
amended  edition  of  the  "Henriade,"  with  a  dedication  in 
English  to  Queen  Caroline.  He  studied  the  writings  of 
Bacon,  Newton,  and  Locke.  Thus  to  the  Chevalier  de 
Chabot,  and  his  shameful  assault,  did  French  thinkers 
owe,  in  no  small  measure,  the  influence  which  English 
writers  exercised  upon  them. 

While  in  England,  Voltaire  was  taking  notes  and  writ- 
^  Desuoiresterres,  Jeunessey  34o. 


54      THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

ing  letters.  These  he  probably  worked  over  during  the 
years  immediately  following  his  return  to  France.  The 
"Lettres  Philosophiques,"  or  "Letters  concerning  the 
English  Nation,"  were  first  published  in  England  in  1733. 
They  were  allowed  to  slip  into  circulation  in  France  in 
the  following  year.  Promptly  condemned  by  the  Parlia- 
ment of  Paris  as  "scandalous  and  contrary  to  religion 
and  morals,  and  to  the  respect  due  to  the  powers  that 
be,"  they  were  "torn  and  burned  at  the  foot  of  the  great 
staircase,"  and  read  all  the  more  for  it. 

It  is  no  wonder  that  the  church,  and  that  conservative 
if  sometimes  heterodox  body,   the  Parliament  of  Paris, 
should  have  condemned  the  "English  Letters."    A  bitter 
satire  is  leveled  at  France,  with  her  religion  and  her  gov- 
ernment, under  cover  of  candid  praise  of  English  ways 
and  English  laws.     What  could  the  Catholic  clergy  say 
to  words  like  these,  put  into  the  mouth  of  a  Quaker? 
"  God  forbid  that  we  should  dare  to  command  any  one 
to  receive  the  Holy  Ghost  on  Sunday  to  the  exclusion  of 
the  rest  of  the  f  aitlif  ul !     Thank  Heaven  we  are  the  only 
people  on  earth  who  have  no  priests !     Would  you  rob  us 
of  so  happy  a  distinction  ?     Why  should  we  abandon  our 
child  to  mercenary  nurses  when  we  have  milk  to  give  him? 
These  hirelings  would  soon  govern  the  house  and  oppress 
mother  and  child.     God  has  said :  '  Freely  ye  have  received ; 
freely  give.'     After  that  saying,  shall  we  go  chaffer  with 
the   Gospel,   sell  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  turn  a    meeting 
of  Christians  into  a  tradesman's  shop?     We  do  not  give 
money  to  men  dressed  in  black,  to  assist  our  poor,  to 
bury  our  dead,   to  preach  to  the  faitliful.     Those  holy 
occupations  are  too  dear  to  us  to  be  cast  off  upon  others."  ^ 
Having  thus  attacked  the  institution  of  priesthood  in 
general,  Voltaire  turns  his  attention  in  particular  to  the 
priests  of  France  and  England.     In  morals,  he  says,  the 
Anglican  clergy  are  more  regular  than  the  French.     This 
1  Voltaire,  xxxvii.  124. 


THE   CHURCH   AND   VOLTAIRE.  55 

is  because  all  ecclesiastics  in  England  are  educated  at  the 
universities,  far  from  the  temptations  of  the  capital,  and 
are  called  to  the  dignities  of  the  church  at  an  advanced 
age,  when  men  have  no  passions  left  but  avarice  and  am- 
bition. Advancement  here  is  the  recompense  of  long  ser- 
vice, in  the  church  as  well  as  in  the  army.  You  do  not 
see  boys  becoming  bishops  or  colonels  on  leaving  school. 
Moreover,  most  English  priests  are  married  men.  The 
awkward  manners  contracted  at  the  university,  and  the 
slight  intercourse  with  women  usual  in  that  coimtry,  gen- 
erally compel  a  bishop  to  be  content  with  his  own  wife. 
Priests  sometimes  go  to  the  tavern  in  England,  because 
custom  allow^s  it ;  but  if  they  get  drunk,  they  do  so  seri- 
ously, and  without  making  scandal. 

"That  indefinable  being,  who  is  neither  a  layman  nor 
an  ecclesiastic,  in  a  word,  that  which  we  call  an  ahhe^  is 
an  unknown  species  in  England.  Here  all  priests  are  re- 
served, and  nearly  all  are  pedants.  When  they  are  told 
that  in  France  young  men  known  for  their  debauched 
lives  and  raised  to  the  prelacy  by  the  intrigues  of  women 
make  love  publicly,  amuse  themselves  by  composing  amo- 
rous songs,  give  long  and  dainty  suppers  every  night,  and 
go  thence  to  ask  the  enlightenment  of  the  Holy  Spirit, 
and  boldly  call  themselves  successors  of  the  apostles,  they 
thank  God  that  they  are  Protestants ;  —  but  they  are  vile 
heretics,  to  be  burned  by  all  the  devils,  as  says  Master 
rran(;ois  Eabelais.  Which  is  why  I  have  nothing  to  do 
with  them."i 

While  the  evil  lives  of  an  important  part  of  the  French 
clergy  are  thus  assailed,  the  doctrines  of  the  Church  are 
not  spared.  The  following  is  from  the  letter  on  the 
Socinians.  "  Do  you  remember  a  certain  orthodox  bishop, 
who  in  order  to  convince  the  Emperor  of  the  consub- 
stantiality  [of  the  three  Persons  of  the  Godhead]  ventured 
to  chuck  the  Emperor's  son  under  the  chin,  and  to  pull 
1  Voltaire,  xxxvii.  140. 


56      THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

Ms  nose  in  his  sacred  majesty's  presence?  The  Emperor 
was  going  to  have  the  bishop  thrown  out  of  the  window, 
when  the  good  man  addressed  him  in  the  following  fine 
and  convincing  words:  'Sir,  if  your  Majesty  is  so  angry 
that  your  son  should  be  treated  with  disrespect,  how  do 
you  think  that  God  the  Father  will  punish  those  who 
refuse  to  give  to  Jesus  Christ  the  titles  that  are  due  to 
Him?'  The  people  of  whom  I  speak  say  that  the  holy 
bishop  was  ill-advised,  that  his  argument  was  far  from 
conclusive,  and  that  the  Emperor  should  have  answered: 
'Know  that  there  are  two  ways  of  showing  want  of  re- 
spect for  me ;  the  first  is  not  to  render  sufficient  honor  to 
my  son,  the  other  is  to  honor  him  as  much  as  myseK.'  "^ 
Such  words  as  these  were  hardly  to  be  borne.  But  the 
French  authorities  recognized  that  there  was  a  greater  and 
more  insidious  danger  to  the  church  in  certain  other  pas- 
sages by  which  Frenchmen  were  made  to  learn  some  of 
the  results  of  English  abstract  thought. 

Among  the  French  writers  of  the  eighteenth  century 
are  several  men  of  eminent  talent ;  one  only  whose  sinis- 
ter but  original  genius  has  given  a  new  direction  to  the 
human  mind.  I  shall  treat  farther  on  of  the  ideas  of 
Rousseau.  The  others,  and  Voltaire  among  them,  belong 
to  that  class  of  great  men  who  assimilate,  express,  and 
popularize  thought,  rather  than  to  the  very  small  body 
of  original  thinkers.  Let  us  then  pause  for  a  moment, 
while  studying  the  French  Philosophers  and  their  action 
on  the  church,  and  ask  who  were  their  masters. 

Montaigne,  Bayle,  and  Grotius  may  be  considered  the 
predecessors  on  the  Continent  of  the  French  Philosophic 
movement,  but  its  great  impulse  came  from  England. 
Bacon  had  much  to  do  with  it ;  Hooker  and  Hobbes  were 
not  without  influence;  Newton's  discoveries  directed 
men's  minds  towards  physical  science;  but  of  the  meta- 
physical and  political  ideas  of  the  century,  John  Locke 
1  Voltaire,  xxxvii.  144. 


THE   CHURCH   AND   VOLTAIRE.  6T 

was  the  fountain-head.  Some  Frenclunen  have  in  modern 
times  disputed  his  claims.  To  refute  these  disputants  it 
is  only  necessary  to  turn  from  their  books  to  those  of  Vol- 
taire and  his  contemporaries.  The  services  rendered  by 
France  to  the  human  race  are  so  great  that  her  sons  need 
never  claim  any  glory  which  does  not  clearly  belong  to 
them.  All  through  modern  history,  Frenchmen  have  stood 
in  the  front  rank  of  civilization.  They  have  stood  there 
side  by  side  with  Englishmen,  Italians,  and  Germans. 
International  jealousy  should  spare  the  leaders  of  human 
thought.  They  belong  to  the  whole  European  family  of 
nations.  The  attempt  to  set  aside  Locke,  Newton,  and 
Bacon,  as  guides  of  the  eighteenth  century  belongs  not  to 
that  age  but  to  our  own. 

The  works  of  Locke  are  on  the  shelves  of  most  consid- 
erable libraries;  but  many  men,  now  that  the  study  of 
metaphysics  is  out  of  fashion,  are  appalled  at  the  sugges- 
tion that  they  should  read  an  essay  in  three  volumes  on 
the  human  understanding,  evidently  considering  their  own 
minds  less  worthy  of  study  than  their  bodies  or  their  es- 
tates. It  may  be  worth  while,  therefore,  to  give  a  short 
summary  of  those  theories,  or  discoveries  of  Locke  which 
most  modified  French  thought  in  the  eighteenth  century. 
The  great  thinker  was  born  in  1632  and  died  in  1704. 
Hispnncipal  works  were  published  shortly  after  the  Eng- 
lish Revolution  of  1688,  but  had  been  long  in  preparation ; 
and  the  "Essay  on  the  Human  Understanding  "  is  said  to 
have  occupied  him  not  less  than  twenty  years. 

It  is  the  principal  doctrine  of  Locke  that  all  ideas  are 
derived  from  sensation  and  reflection.  He  acknowledges 
that  "it  is  a  received  doctrine  that  men  have  native  ideas 
and  original  characters  stamped  upon  their  minds  in  their 
very  first  being;"  but  he  utterly  rejects  every  such  the- 
ory. It  is  his  principal  business  to  protest  and  argue 
against  the  existence  of  such  "innate  ideas."  Virtue  he 
believes  to  be  generally  approved  because  it  is  profitable 


68      THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

not  on  account  of  any  natural  leaning  of  the  mind  in  its 
direction.  Conscience  "is  nothing  else  but  our  own  opin- 
ion or  judgment  of  the  moral  rectitude  or  pravity  of  our 
own  actions."  Memory  is  the  power  in  the  mind  to  re- 
vive perceptions  which  it  once  had,  with  this  additional 
perception  annexed  to  them,  that  it  has  had  them  before. 
Wit  lies  in  the  assemblage  of  ideas,  judgment  in  the  care- 
ful discrimination  among  them.  "Things  are  good  or 
evil  only  in  reference  to  pleasure  or  pain;"  .  .  .  "our 
love  and  hatred  of  inanimate,  insensible  beings  is  com- 
monly founded  on  that  pleasure  or  pain  which  we  receive 
from  their  use  and  application  any  way  to  our  senses, 
though  with  their  destruction ;  but  hatred  or  love  of  beings 
capable  of  happiness  or  misery  is  often  the  uneasiness  or 
delight  which  we  find  in  ourselves,  arising  from  a  consid- 
eration of  their  very  being  or  happiness.  Thus  the  being 
and  welfare  of  a  man's  children  or  friends,  producing 
constant  delight  in  him,  he  is  said  constantly  to  love  them. 
But  it  suffices  to  note  that  our  ideas  of  love  and  hatred 
are  but  dispositions  of  the  mind  in  respect  of  pleasure  or 
pain  in  general,  however  caused  in  us." 

We  have  no  clear  idea  of  substance  nor  of  spirit.  Sub- 
stance is  that  wherein  we  conceive  qualities  of  matter  to 
exist ;  spirit,  that  in  which  we  conceive  qualities  of  mind, 
as  tliinking,  knowing,  and  doubting.  The  primary  ideas 
of  body  are  the  cohesion  of  solid,  and  therefore  separate 
parts,  and  a  power  of  communicating  motion  by  impulse. 
The  ideas  of  spirit  are  thinking  and  will,  or  a  power  of 
putting  body  into  motion  by  thought,  and,  which  is  con- 
sequent to  it,  liberty.  The  ideas  of  existence,  mobility, 
and  duration  are  common  to  both. 

Locke's  intelligence  was  clear  enough  to  perceive  that 
these  two  ideas,  spirit  and  matter,  stand  on  a  similar  foot- 
ing. Less  lucid  thinkers  have  boldly  denied  the  exis- 
tence of  spirit  while  asserting  that  of  matter.  Locke's 
system  would  not  allow  him  to  believe  that  either  concep- 


THE  CHURCH  AND  VOLTAIRE.  59 

tlon  depended  on  the  nature  of  the  mind  itself.  He 
therefore  rejected  the  claims  of  substance  as  unequivo- 
cally as  those  of  spirit,  declaring  it  to  be  "only  an  uncer- 
tain supposition  of  we  know  not  what,  i.  e.,  of  something 
whereof  we  have  no  particular,  distinct,  positive  idea, 
which  we  take  to  be  the  substratimi  or  support  of  those 
ideas  we  know."  Yet  he  inclines  on  the  whole  toward 
materialism.  "We  have,"  he  says,  "the  ideas  of  matter 
and  thinking,  but  possibly  shall  never  be  able  to  know 
whether  any  mere  material  being  thinks,  or  no ;  it  being 
impossible  for  us,  by  the  contemplation  of  our  own  ideas, 
without  revelation,  to  discover  whether  omnipotency  has 
not  given  to  some  system  of  matter,  fitly  disposed,  a 
power  to  perceive  and  think,  or  else  joined  and  fixed  to 
matter  so  disposed  a  thinking  immaterial  substance,  it 
being,  in  respect  of  our  notions,  not  much  more  remote 
from  our  comprehension  to  conceive  that  God  can,  if  he 
pleases,  superadd  to  matter  a  faculty  of  thinking,  than 
that  he  should  superadd  to  it  another  substance,  with  a 
f acidty  of  thinking ;  since  we  know  not  wherein  thinking 
consists,  nor  to  what  sort  of  substances  the  Ahnighty  has 
been  pleased  to  give  that  power,  which  cannot  be  in  any 
created  being,  but  merely  by  the  good  pleasure  and  power 
of  the  Creator."  .  .  .  "All  the  great  ends  of  morality 
and  religion,"  he  adds,  "are  well  secured  without  philo- 
sophical proof  of  the  soul's  immateriality."  As  to  our 
knowledge  "of  the  actual  existence  of  things,  we  have  an 
intuitive  knowledge  of  our  own  existence,  and  a  demon- 
strative knowledge  of  the  existence  of  God ;  of  the  exis- 
tence of  anything  else,  we  have  no  other  but  a  sensitive 
knowledge,  which  extends  not  beyond  the  objects  present 
to  our  senses."  1 

^  Is  not  an  intuitive  knowledge  suspiciously  like  an  innate  idea  ? 
Locke's  Works,  i.  38,  39,  72,  82,  137,  145,  231  ;  ii.  10,  11,  21, 
331,  300,  372  (Book  i.  cli.  3,  4,  Book  ii.  ch.  1,  10,  11,  20,  23,  Book 
iv.  cb.  3). 


60      THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

Tlie  eulogy  of  Locke  in  Voltaire's  "Lettres  Philoso- 
phiques  "  gave  especial  offense  to  the  French  churchmen. 
Voltaire  writes  to  a  friend  that  the  censor  might  have 
been  brought  to  give  his  approbation  to  all  the  letters 
but  this  one.  "I  confess,"  he  adds,  "that  I  do  not  un- 
derstand this  exception,  but  the  theologians  know  more 
about  it  than  I  do,  and  I  must  take  their  word  for  it."^ 
The  letter  to  which  the  censor  objected  was  principally 
taken  up  with  the  doctrine  of  the  materiality  of  the  soul. 
"Never,"  says  Voltaire,  "was  there  perhaps  a  wiser  or 
a  more  methodical  spirit,  a  more  exact  logician,  than 
Locke."  .  .  "Before  him  great  philosophers  had  posi- 
tively decided  what  is  the  soul  of  man ;  but  as  they  knew 
nothing  at  all  about  it,  it  is  very  natural  that  they  should 
all  have  been  of  different  minds."  And  he  adds  in 
another  part  of  the  letter,  "Men  have  long  disputed  on 
the  nature  and  immortality  of  the  soul.  As  to  its  immor- 
tality, that  cannot  be  demonstrated,  since  people  are  still 
disputing  about  its  nature;  and  since,  surely,  we  must 
thoroughly  know  a  created  being  to  decide  whether  it  is 
immortal  or  not.  Human  reason  alone  is  so  unable  to 
demonstrate  the  immortality  of  the  soul,  that  religion 
has  been  obliged  to  reveal  it  to  us.  The  common  good  of 
all  men  demands  that  we  should  believe  the  soul  to  be  im- 
mortal; faith  commands  it;  no  more  is  needed,  and  the 
matter  is  ahnost  decided.  It  is  not  the  same  as  to  its 
nature;  it  matters  little  to  religion  of  what  substance  is 
the  soul,  if  only  it  be  virtuous.  It  is  a  clock  that  has 
been  given  us  to  regulate,  but  the  maker  has  not  told  us 
of  what  springs  this  clock  is  composed.  "^ 

1  Voltaire,  li.  356  {Letter  to  TUeriot,  24  Feb.  1733). 

2  Voltaire,  xxxvii.  177,  182  {Lettres  philosophiques.  In  the  vari- 
ous editions  of  Voltaire's  collected  works  published  in  the  last  century 
these  letters  do  not  appear  as  a  series,  but  their  contents  is  distributed 
among  the  miscellaneous  articles,  and  those  of  the  Dictionnaire  phi- 
losophique.     The  reason  for  this  was  that  the  letters,   having  been 


THE   CHURCH   AND   VOLTAIRE.  61 

The  "Lettres  pliilosophiques  "  may  be  considered  the 
first  of  Voltaire's  polemic  writings.  They  exhibit  his 
mordant  wit,  his  clear-sightedness  and  his  moral  courage. 
There  is  in  them,  perhaps,  more  real  gayety,  more  sponta- 
neous fun,  than  in  his  later  books.  Voltaire  was  between 
thirty-five  and  forty  years  old  when  they  were  written, 
and  although  he  possessed  to  the  end  of  his  long  life  more 
vitality  than  most  men,  yet  he  was  physically  something 
of  an  invalid,  and  his  many  exiles  and  disappointments 
told  upon  his  temper.  From  1734,  when  these  letters 
first  appeared  in  France,  to  1778,  when  he  died,  worn  out 
with  years,  labors,  quarrels,  and  honors,  his  activity  was 
unceasing.  He  had  many  followers  and  many  enemies, 
but  hardly  a  rival.  Voltaire  was  and  is  the  great  repre- 
sentative of  a  way  of  looking  at  life ;  a  way  which  was 
enthusiastically  followed  in  his  own  time,  which  is  fol- 
lowed with  equal  enthusiasm  to-day.  This  view  he  ex- 
pressed and  enforced  in  his  numberless  poems,  tragedies, 
histories,  and  tales.  It  formed  the  burden  of  his  volu- 
minous correspondence.  As  we  read  any  of  them,  his 
creed  becomes  clear  to  us;  it  is  written  large  in  every 
one  of  his  more  than  ninety  volumes.  It  may  almost  be 
said  to  be  on  every  page  of  them.  That  creed  may  be 
stated  as  follows:  We  know  truth  only  by  our  reason. 
That  reason  is  enlightened  only  by  our  senses.  What 
they  do  not  tell  us  we  cannot  know,  and  it  is  mere  folly 
to  waste  time  in  conjecturing.  Imagination  and  feeling 
are  blind  leaders  of  the  blind.  All  men  who  pretend  to 
supernatural  revelation  or  inspiration  are  swindlers,  and 
those  who  believe  them  are  dupes.  It  may  be  desirable, 
for  political  or  social  purposes,  to  have  a  favored  religion 
in  the  state,  but  freedom  of  opinion  and  of  expression 

judicially  condemned,  might  have  brought  their  publishers  into  trouble 
if  they  had  appeared  under  their  own  title.  Bengesco,  ii.  9.  Des- 
noiresterres,  Voltaire  a  Cirey,  28,  Voltaire,  xxxvii.  113.  In  Beuchot's 
edition  the  letters  appear  in  their  original  form). 


62      THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

should  be  allowed  to  all  men,  at  least  to  all  educated 
men ;  for  the  populace,  with  their  crude  ideas  and  super- 
stitions, may  be  held  in  slight  regard. 

Voltaire's  hatred  was  especially  warm  against  the  reg- 
ular clergy.  "Religion,"  he  says,  "can  still  sharpen 
daggers.  There  is  within  the  nation  a  people  which  has 
no  dealings  with  honest  folk,  which  does  not  belong  to  the 
age,  which  is  inaccessible  to  the  progress  of  reason,  and 
over  which  the  atrocity  of  fanaticism  preserves  its  empire, 
like  certain  diseases  which  attack  only  the  vilest  popu- 
lace." The  best  monks  are  the  worst,  and  those  who  sing 
the  "Pervigilium  Veneris"  in  place  of  matins  are  less 
dangerous  than  such  as  reason,  preach,  and  plot.  And  in 
another  place  he  says  that  "a  religious  order  should  not 
form  a  part  of  history."  But  it  is  well  to  notice  that  Vol- 
taire's hatred  of  Catholicism  and  of  Catholic  monks  is  not 
founded  on  a  preference  for  any  other  church.  He  thinks 
that  theocracy  must  have  been  universal  among  early 
tribes,  "for  as  soon  as  a  nation  has  chosen  a  tutelary  god, 
that  god  has  priests.  These  priests  govern  the  spirit 
of  the  nation;  they  can  govern  only  in  the  name  of  their 
god,  so  they  make  him  speak  continually;  they  set  forth 
his  oracles,  and  all  things  are  done  by  God's  express 
commands."  From  this  cause  come  human  sacrifices  and 
the  most  atrocious  tyranny;  and  the  more  divine  such  a 
government  calls  itself,  the  more  abominable  it  is. 

All  prophets  are  impostors.  Mahomet  may  have  begun 
as  an  enthusiast,  enamored  of  his  own  ideas ;  but  he  was 
soon  led  away  by  his  reveries ;  he  deceived  himself  in  de- 
ceiving others ;  and  finally  supported  a  doctrine  which  he 
believed  to  be  good,  by  necessary  imposture.  Socrates, 
who  pretended  to  have  a  familiar  spirit,  must  have  been 
a  little  crazy,  or  a  little  given  to  swindling.  As  for  Moses, 
he  is  a  myth,  a  form  of  the  Indian  Bacchus.  The  Koran 
(and  consequently  the  Bible)  may  be  judged  by  the  igno- 
rance of  physics  which  it  displays.     "This  is  the  touch- 


THE  CHURCH  AND  VOLTAIRE.  63 

stone  of  the  books  which,  according  to  false  religions, 
were  written  by  the  Deity,  for  God  is  neither  absurd  nor 
ignorant."  Several  volumes  are  devoted  by  Voltaire  to 
showing  the  inconsistencies,  absurdities  and  atrocities  of 
the  Old  and  New  Testaments,  and  the  abominations  of 
the  Jews. 

The  positive  religious  opinions  of  Voltaire  are  less  im- 
portant than  his  negations,  for  the  work  of  this  great 
writer  was  mainly  to  destroy.  He  was  a  theist,  of  waver- 
ing and  doubtful  faith.  He  was  well  aware  that  any  pro- 
fession of  atheism  might  be  dangerous,  and  likely  to  in- 
jure him  at  court  and  with  some  of  his  friends.  He  thought 
that  belief  in  God  and  in  a  future  life  were  important  to 
the  safety  of  society,  and  is  said  to  have  sent  the  servant 
out  of  the  room  on  one  occasion  when  one  of  the  company 
was  doubting  the  existence  of  the  Deity,  giving  as  a  rea- 
son that  he  did  not  want  to  have  his  throat  cut.  Yet  it 
is  probable  that  his  theism  went  a  little  deeper  than  this. 
He  says  that  matter  is  probably  eternal  and  self -existing, 
and  that  God  is  everlasting,  and  self -existing  likewise. 
Are  there  other  Gods  for  other  worlds  ?  It  may  be  so ; 
some  nations  and  some  scholars  have  believed  in  the  exis- 
tence of  two  gods,  one  good  and  one  evil.  Surely,  nature 
can  more  easily  suffer,  in  the  immensity  of  space,  several 
independent  beings,  each  absolute  master  of  its  own  por- 
tion, than  two  limited  gods  in  this  world,  one  confined  to 
doing  good,  the  other  to  doing  evil.  If  God  and  matter 
both  exist  from  eternity,  "here  are  two  necessary  enti- 
ties ;  and  if  there  be  two  there  may  be  thirty.  We  must 
confess  our  ignorance  of  the  nature  of  divinity." 

It  is  noticeable  that,  like  most  men  on  whom  the  idea  of 
God  does  not  take  a  very  strong  hold,  Voltaire  imagined 
powers  in  some  respects  superior  to  Deity.  Thus  he  says 
above  that  nature  can  more  easily  suffer  several  indepen- 
dent gods  than  two  opposed  ones.  Having  supposed  one 
or  several  gods  to  put  the  universe  in  order,  he  supposes 


64      THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

an  order  anterior  to  the  gods.  This  idea  of  a  superior 
order,  Fate,  Necessity,  or  Nature,  is  a  very  old  one.  It 
is  probably  tlie  protest  of  the  human  mind  against  those 
anthropomorphic  conceptions  of  God,  from  which  it  is 
almost  incapable  of  escaping.  Voltaire  and  the  Philoso- 
phers almost  without  exception  believed  that  there  was 
a  system  of  natural  law  and  justice  connected  with  this 
superior  order,  taught  to  man  by  instinct.  Sometimes  in 
their  system  God  was  placed  above  this  law,  as  its  origin ; 
sometimes,  as  we  have  seen,  He  was  conceived  as  subjected 
to  Nature.  "  God  has  given  us  a  principle  of  universal 
reason,"  says  Voltaire,  ''as  He  has  given  feathers  to  birds 
and  fur  to  bears ;  and  this  principle  is  so  lasting  that  it 
exists  in  spite  of  all  the  passions  which  combat  it,  in 
spite  of  the  tyrants  who  would  drown  it  in  blood,  in  spite 
of  the  impostors  who  would  annihilate  it  in  superstition. 
Therefore  the  rudest  nation  always  judges  very  well  in 
the  long  run  concerning  the  laws  that  govern  it ;  because 
it  feels  that  these  laws  either  agree  or  disagree  with  the 
principles  of  pity  and  justice  which  are  in  its  heart." 
Here  we  have  something  which  seems  like  an  innate  idea 
of  virtue.  But  we  must  not  expect  complete  consistency 
of  Voltaire.  In  another  place  he  says,  "Virtue  and  vice, 
moral  good  and  evil,  are  in  all  countries  that  which  is 
useful  or  injurious  to  society;  and  in  all  times  and  in  all 
places  he  who  sacrifices  the  most  to  the  public  is  the  man 
who  will  be  called  the  most  virtuous.  Whence  it  appears 
that  good  actions  are  nothing  else  than  actions  from  which 
we  derive  an  advantage,  and  crimes  are  but  actions  that 
are  against  us.  Virtue  is  the  habit  of  doing  the  things 
which  please  mankind,  and  vice  the  habit  of  doing  things 
which  displease  it.  Liberty,  he  says  elsewhere,  is  no- 
thing but  the  power  to  do  that  which  our  wills  neces- 
sarily require  of  us.^ 

1  Voltaire,  xx.  439  (Siecle  de   Louis  XIV.,  ch.  xxxvii.),  xxi.  369 
{Louis  XV.,  ch.  xxxviii.),  xv.  34,  40,  123,316  {Essai  sur  les  moeurs), 


THE   CHURCH   AND   VOLTAIRE.  65 

The  Church  of  France  was  both  angered  and  alarmed 
by  the  writings  of  Voltaire  and  his  friends,  and  did  her 
feeble  best  to  reply  to  them.  But  while  strong  in  her 
organization  and  her  legal  powers,  her  internal  condition 
was  far  from  vigorous.  Incredulity  had  become  fashion- 
able even  before  the  attacks  of  Voltaire  were  dangerous. 
An  earlier  satirist  has  put  into  the  mouth  of  a  priest  an 
account  of  the  difficulties  which  beset  the  clergy  in  those 
days.  "Men  of  the  world,"  he  says,  "are  astonishing. 
They  can  bear  neither  our  approval  nor  our  censure.  If 
we  wish  to  correct  them,  they  think  us  ridiculous.  If  we 
api^rove  of  them,  they  consider  us  below  our  calling.  No- 
thing is  so  humiliating  as  to  feel  that  you  have  shocked 
the  impious.  We  are  therefore  obliged  to  follow  an 
equivocal  line  of  conduct,  and  to  check  libertines  not  by 
decision  of  character  but  by  keeping  them  in  doubt  as  to 
how  we  receive  what  they  say.  This  requires  much  wit. 
The  state  of  neutrality  is  difficult.  Men  of  the  world, 
who  venture  to  say  anything  they  please,  who  give  free 
vent  to  their  humor,  who  follow  it  up  or  let  it  go  accord- 
ing to  their  success,  get  on  much  better. 

"  Nor  is  this  all.  That  happy  and  tranquil  condition 
which  is  so  much  praised  we  do  not  enjoy  in  society. 
As  soon  as  we  appear,  we  are  obliged  to  discuss.  "We  are 
forced,  for  instance,  to  undertake  to  prove  the  utility  of 
prayer  to  a  man  who  does  not  believe  in  God ;  the  neces- 
sity of  fasting  to  another  who  all  his  life  has  denied  the 
immortality  of  the  soul.  The  task  is  hard,  and  the  laugh 
is  not  on  our  side."  ^ 

xlili.  74  (Examen  important  de  Lord  BoUnghroke),  xxxi.  13  (Did. 
philos.  Liberie)  xxxvii.  336  (Traite  de  metaphysique).  For  general 
attacks  on  the  Bible  and  the  Jews,  see  CEuvres,  xv.  123-127,  xliii. 
39-205,  xxxix.  454-^04.  Morley's  Diderot,  ii.  178.  Notice  how  many 
of  the  arguments  that  are  still  repeated  nowadays  concerning  the 
Mosaic  account  of  the  creation,  etc.  etc.,  come  from  Voltaire.  Notice 
also  that  Voltaire,  while  too  incredulous  of  ancient  writers,  was  too 
credulous  of  modern  travelers. 

^  Montesquieu,  Lettres  persanes,  i.  210,  211,  Lettre  Ixi. 


66      THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  EEVOLUTION. 

The  prelates  appointed  to  their  high  offices  by  Louis 
XV.  and  his  courtiers  were  not  the  men  to  make  good 
their  cause  by  spiritual  weapons.  There  was  no  Bossuet, 
no  Fenelon  in  the  Church  of  France  of  the  eighteenth 
century.  Her  defense  was  intrusted  to  far  weaker  men. 
First  we  have  the  archbishops,  Lefranc  de  Pompignan 
of  Vienne  and  Elie  de  Beaumont  of  Paris.  Then  come 
the  Jesuit  Nonnotte  and  the  managers  of  the  Memoires 
de  Trevoux,  the  Benedictine  Chaudon,  the  Abbe  Tru- 
blet,  the  journalist  Freron,  and  many  others,  lay  and 
clerical.  The  answers  of  the  churchmen  to  their  Philo- 
sophic opponents  are  generally  inconclusive.  Lefranc  de 
Pompignan  declared  that  the  love  of  dry  and  speculative 
truth  was  a  delusive  fancy,  good  to  adorn  an  oration,  but 
never  realized  by  the  human  heart.  He  sneered  at  Locke 
and  at  the  idea  that  the  latter  had  invented  metaphysics. 
His  objections  and  those  of  the  Catholic  church  to  that 
philosopher's  teachings  were  chiefly  that  the  Englishman 
maintained  that  thought  might  be  an  attribute  of  matter ; 
that  he  encouraged  Pyrrhonism,  or  universal  doubt ;  that 
his  theory  of  identity  was  doubtful,  and  that  he  denied  the 
existence  of  innate  ideas.  All  these  matters  are  well  open 
to  discussion,  and  the  advantage  might  not  always  be  found 
on  Locke's  side.  But  in  general  the  Catholic  theologians 
and  their  opponents  were  not  sufficiently  agreed  to  be  able 
to  argue  profitably.  They  had  no  premises  in  common. 
If  one  of  two  disputants  assumes  that  all  ideas  are  derived 
from  sensation  and  reflection,  and  the  other,  that  the  most 
important  of  them  are  the  result  of  the  inspiration  of  God, 
there  is  no  use  in  their  discussing  minor  points  until  those 
great  questions  are  settled.  The  attempt  to  reconcile 
views  so  conflicting  has  frequently  been  made,  and  no 
writings  are  more  dreary  than  those  which  embody  it. 
But  men  who  are  too  far  apart  to  cross  swords  in  argu- 
ment may  yet  hurl  at  each  other  the  missiles  of  vitupera- 
tion,  and  there  were  plenty  of  combatants  to  engage  in 


THE   CHURCH    AND   VOLTAIRE.  67 

that  sort  of  warfare  with  Voltaire,  Rousseau,  and  the  En- 
cyclopaedists. 

On  the  two  sides,  treatises,  comedies,  tales,  and  epigrams 
were  written.  It  was  not  difficult  to  point  out  that  the 
sayings  of  the  various  opponents  of  the  church  were  in- 
consistent with  each  other;  that  Rousseau  contradicted 
Voltaire,  that  Voltaire  contradicted  himself.  There  were 
many  weak  places  in  the  armor  of  those  warriors.  Pom- 
pignan  discourses  at  great  length,  dwelling  more  espe- 
cially on  the  worship  which  the  Philosophers  paid  to  phy- 
sical science,  on  their  love  of  doubt,  and  on  their  mistaken 
theory  that  a  good  Christian  cannot  be  a  patriot.  Chau- 
don,  perhaps  the  cleverest  of  the  clerical  writers,  some- 
times throws  a  well  directed  shaft.  "That  same  Vol- 
taire," he  says,  "who  thinks  that  satires  against  God  are 
of  no  consequence,  attaches  great  importance  to  satires 
written  against  himself  and  his  friends.  He  is  unwilling 
to  see  the  pen  snatched  from  the  hands  of  the  slanderers 
of  the  Deity ;  but  he  has  often  tried  to  excite  the  powers 
that  be  against  the  least  of  his  critics."  This  was  very 
true  of  Voltaire,  who  was  as  thin-skinned  as  he  was  vio- 
lent; and  who  is  believed  to  have  tried  sometimes  to  si- 
lence his  opponents  by  the  arbitrary  method  of  procuring 
from  some  man  in  power  a  royal  order  to  have  them  locked 
up.  Palissot,  in  a  very  readable  comedy,  makes  fim  of 
Diderot  and  his  friends.  As  for  invective,  the  supply  is 
endless  on  both  sides.  The  Archbishop  of  Paris  condemns 
the  "Emile  "  of  Rousseau  as  containing  a  great  many  pro- 
positions that  are  "false,  scandalous,  full  of  hatred  of  the 
church  and  her  ministers,  erroneous,  impious,  blasphe- 
mous, and  heretical. "  The  same  prelate  argues  as  follows : 
"Who  would  not  believe,  my  very  dear  brethren,  from 
what  this  impostor  says,  that  the  authority  of  the  church 
is  proved  only  by  her  own  decisions,  and  that  she  proceeds 
thus:  'I  decide  that  I  am  infallible,  therefore  so  I  am.' 
A  calumnious  imputation,  my  very  dear  brethren!     The 


68      THE  EVE  OF  THE  FKENCH  REVOLUTION. 

constitution  of  Christianity,  the  spirit  of  the  Scriptures, 
the  very  errors  and  the  weakness  of  the  human  mind  tend 
to  show  that  the  church  established  by  Jesus  Christ  is 
infallible.  We  declare  that,  as  the  Divine  Legislator 
always  taught  the  truth,  so  his  church  always  teaches  it. 
We  therefore  prove  the  authority  of  the  church,  not  by 
the  church's  authority,  but  by  that  of  Jesus  Christ,  a 
process  as  accurate  as  the  other,  with  which  we  are  re- 
proached, is  absurd  and  senseless." 

The  arguments  of  the  clerical  writers  were  not  all  on 
this  level.  Chaudon  and  Nonnotte  prepared  a  series  of 
articles,  arranged  in  the  form  of  a  dictionary,  in  which  the 
Catholic  doctrine  is  set  forth,  sometimes  clearly  and  for- 
cibly. But  it  is  evident  that  the  champions  of  Catholi- 
cism in  that  age  were  no  match  in  controversy  for  her 
adversaries. 

The  streno-th  of  a  church  does  not  lie  in  her  doctors  and 
her  orators,  still  less  in  her  wits  and  debaters,  though 
they  all  have  their  uses.  The  strength  of  a  church  lies  in 
her  saints.  While  these  have  a  large  part  in  her  councils 
and  a  wide  influence  among  her  members,  a  church  is 
nearly  irresistible.  When  they  are  few,  timid  and  unin- 
fluential,  knowledge  and  power,  nay,  simple  piety  itseK, 
can  hardly  support  her.  In  the  Church  of  France,  through 
the  ages,  there  have  been  many  saints ;  but  in  the  reigns 
of  Louis  XVI.  and  his  immediate  predecessor  there  were 
but  few,  and  none  of  prominence.  The  persecution  of 
the   Jansenists,  petty  as   were  the   forms   it  took,  had 

1  Lef ranc  de  Pompignan,  i.  27  (Instruction  pastorale  sur  la  pretendue 
philosopkie  des  incredules).  Dictionnaire  antiphilosophique,  republished 
and  enlarged  by  Grosse  under  the  title  Dictionnaire  d'antiphilosophisme. 
Talissot,  Les  philosophes.  Beaumont's  '' mandement"  given  in  Rous- 
seau, (Euvres,  vii.  22,  etc.  See  also  Barth^leray,  Erreurs  et  mensonges, 
S"",  IS"",  14"*  S^rie,  articles  on  Fre'ron^  Nonnotte,  Trublet,  and  Pa^ 
trouilleU  Confessions  de  Freron.  Nisard,  Les  ennemis  de  Voltaire.  The 
superiority  of  the  Philosophers  over  the  churchmen  in  argument  is 
too  evident  to  be  denied.     Carnd,  408. 


THE   CHURCH   AND   VOLTAIRE.  69 

turned  aside  from  ardent  fellowship  in  the  church  many  of 
the  most  earnest,  religious  souls  in  France.  The  atmos- 
phere of  the  country  was  not  then  favorable  to  any  kind 
of  heroism.  Such  seK-devoted  Christians  as  there  were 
went  quietly  on  their  ways ;  their  existence  to  be  proved 
only  when,  in  the  worst  days  of  the  Revolution,  a  few  of 
them  should  find  the  crown  of  martyrdom. 


CHAPTER  YI. 

THE  NOBILITY. 

The  second  order  in  the  state  was  the  Nobility.  It  is 
fl  mistake,  however,  to  suppose  that  this  word  bears  on 
the  Continent  exactly  the  same  meaning  as  in  England. 
Where  all  the  children  of  a  nobleman  are  nobles,  a  strict 
class  is  created.  An  English  peerage,  descending  only 
to  the  eldest  son,  is  more  in  the  nature  of  an  office.  The 
French  noblesse  in  the  latter  years  of  the  old  monarchy 
comprised  nearly  all  persons  living  otherwise  than  by 
their  daily  toil,  together  with  the  higher  part  of  the  legal 
profession.  While  the  clergy  had  political  rights  and  a 
corporate  existence,  and  acted  by  means  of  an  assembly, 
the  nobility  had  but  privileges.  This,  however,  was  true 
only  of  the  older  provinces,  the  "Lands  of  Elections," 
whose  ancient  rights  had  been  abolished.  In  some  of  the 
"Lands  of  Estates,"  which  still  kept  a  remnant  of  self- 
government,  the  order  was  to  some  extent  a  political  body 
with  constitutional  rights. 

The  nobility  have  been  reckoned  at  about  one  hundred 
thousand  souls,  forming  twenty -five  or  thirty  thousand 
families,  owning  one  fifth  of  the  soil  of  France.  Only  a 
part  of  this  land,  however,  was  occupied  by  the  nobles 
for  their  gardens,  parks,  and  chases.  The  greater  por- 
tion was  let  to  farmers,  either  at  a  fixed  rent,  or  on  the 
metaijer  system,  by  which  the  landlord  was  paid  by  a 
share  of  the  crops.  And  beside  his  rent  or  his  portion, 
the  noble  received  other  things  from  his  tenants  :  pay- 
ments and  services  according  to  ancient  custom,  days  of 
labor,  and  occasional  dues.     He  could  tramp  over   the 


THE   NOBILITY.  71 

ploughed  lands  with  his  servants  in  search  of  game,  al- 
though he  might  destroy  the  growing  corn.  The  game 
itself,  which  the  peasant  might  not  kill,  was  still  more  de- 
structive. Such  rights  as  these,  especially  where  they 
were  harshly  enforced,  caused  both  loss  and  irritation  to 
the  poor.  Although  there  were  far  too  many  absentees 
among  the  great  families,  yet  the  larger  number  of  the 
nobles  spent  most  of  their  time  at  home  on  their  estates, 
looking  after  their  farms  and  their  tenants,  attending  to 
local  business,  and  saving  up  money  to  be  spent  in  visits 
to  the  towns,  or  to  Paris.  When  they  were  absent,  their 
bailiffs  were  harder  masters  than  themselves.  Unfortu- 
nately the  eyes  of  the  noble  class  were  turned  rather  to 
the  enjoyments  of  the  city  and  the  court  than  to  the  du- 
ties of  country  life  on  their  estates,  an  inevitable  conse- 
quence of  their  loss  of  local  power. 

If  the  nobles  had  few  political  rights,  they  had  plenty 
of  public  privileges.  They  were  exempt  from  the  most 
onerous  taxes,  and  the  best  places  under  the  government 
were  reserved  for  them.  Therefore  every  man  who  rose 
to  eminence  or  to  wealth  in  France  strove  to  enter  their 
ranks,  and  since  nobility  was  a  purchasable  commodity, 
through  the  multiplication  of  venal  offices  which  conferred 
it,  none  who  had  much  money  to  spend  failed  to  secure 
the  coveted  rank.  Thus  the  order  had  come  to  comprise 
almost  all  persons  of  note,  and  a  great  part  of  the  educated 
class.  To  describe  its  ideas  and  aspirations  is  to  describe 
those  of  most  of  the  leaders  of  France.  Nobility  was  no 
longer  a  mark  of  high  birth,  nor  a  brevet  of  distinction ; 
it  was  merely  a  sign  that  a  man,  or  some  of  his  ancestors, 
had  had  property.  Of  course  all  persons  in  the  order  were 
not  equal.  The  descendants  of  the  old  families,  which 
had  been  great  in  the  land  for  hundreds  of  years,  de- 
spised the  mushroom  noblemen  of  yesterday,  and  talked 
contemptuously  of  "nobility  of  the  gown."  Theirs  was 
of  the  sword,  and  dated  from  the  Crusades.     And  under 


72      THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

Louis  XVI.,  after  tlie  first  dismissal  of  Necker,  there 
was  a  reaction,  and  ground  gained  by  the  older  nobility 
over  the  newer,  and  by  both  over  the  inferior  classes.  As 
the  Kevolution  draws  near  and  financial  embarrassment 
grows  more  acute,  the  pickings  of  the  favored  class  have 
become  scarcer,  while  the  appetite  for  them  has  increased. 
Preferment  in  church  or  state  must  no  longer  go  to  the 
vulgar. 

There  is  a  distinction  among  nobles  quite  apart  from 
the  length  of  their  pedigree.  We  find  a  higher  and 
a  lower  nobility,  with  no  clear  line  of  division  between 
them.  They  are  in  fact  the  very  rich,  whose  families 
have  some  prominence,  and  the  moderately  well  off.  For 
it  may  be  noticed  that  among  nobles  of  all  times  and  coun- 
tries, although  wealth  unaided  may  not  give  titles  and 
place,  it  is  pretty  much  a  condition  precedent  for  acquir- 
ing them.  A  man  may  be  of  excellent  family,  and  poor; 
but  to  be  a  great  noble,  a  man  must  be  rich.  In  old 
France  the  road  to  preferment  was  through  the  court; 
but  to  shine  at  court  a  considerable  income  was  required ; 
and  so  the  noblesse  de  cour  was  more  or  less  identical  with 
the  richer  nobility. 

In  this  small  but  influential  part  of  the  nation,  both  the 
good  and  the  bad  qualities  which  are  favored  by  court  life 
had  reached  a  high  degree  of  development.  The  old 
French  nobility  has  sometimes  been  represented  as  ex- 
hibiting the  best  of  manners  and  the  worst  of  morals.  I 
believe  that  both  sides  of  the  picture  have  been  painted 
in  too  high  colors.  The  courtier  was  not  always  polite, 
nor  were  all  great  nobles  libertines.  Faithful  husbands 
and  wives  were  by  no  means  exceptional ;  although,  as  in 
other  places,  well  behaved  people  did  not  make  a  parade 
of  their  morality.  There  is  such  a  thing  as  a  French 
prig;  but  prigs  are  neither  common  nor  popular  in 
France.  Before  the  Revolution  the  art  of  pleasing  was 
more  studied  than  it  is  to-day,  —  that  art  by  which  men 


THE   NOBILITY.  *  73 

and  women  make  themselves  agreeable  to  their  acquaint- 
ance. 

"In  old  times,  under  Louis  XV.  and  Louis  XVI.," 
says  the  Viscount  of  Segur,  "a  young  man  entering  society 
made  what  was  called  a  cUhut.  He  cultivated  accom- 
plishments. His  father  suggested  and  directed  this  work, 
for  work  it  was ;  but  the  mother,  the  mother  only,  could 
bring  her  son  to  that  last  degree  of  politeness,  of  grace 
and  amiability,  which  completed  his  education.  Beside 
her  natural  tenderness,  her  pride  was  so  much  at  stake 
that  you  may  judge  what  care,  what  studied  pains,  she 
used  in  giving  her  children,  on  their  entrance  into  soci- 
ety, all  the  charm  that  she  could  develop  in  them,  or  be- 
stow upon  them.  Thence  came  that  rare  politeness,  that 
exquisite  taste,  that  moderation  in  speech  and  jest,  that 
graceful  carriage,  in  short  that  combination  which  char- 
acterized what  was  called  good  company,  and  which  always 
distinguished  French  society  even  among  foreigners.  If 
a  young  man,  because  of  his  youth,  had  failed  in  attention 
to  a  lady,  in  consideration  for  a  man  older  than  himself, 
in  deference  for  old  age,  the  mother  of  the  thoughtless 
young  feUow  was  informed  of  it  by  her  friends  the  same 
evening ;  and  on  the  following  day  he  was  sure  to  receive 
advice  and  reproof."^ 

The  instruction  thus  early  given  was  not  confined  to 
forms.  Indeed,  French  society  in  that  day  was  probably 
less  formal  in  some  ways  than  any  other  European  soci- 
ety ;  and  in  Paris  people  were  more  free  than  in  the  prov- 
inces. Although  making  a  bow  was  a  fine  art,  although 
a  lady's  curtsey  was  exj3ected  to  be  at  once  "natural,  soft, 
modest,  gracious,  and  dignified,"  ceremonious  greetings 
were  considered  unnecessary,  and  few  compliments  were 
paid.  To  praise  a  woman's  beauty  to  her  face  would 
have   been    to  disparage   her   modesty.     Good  manners 

1  The  Viscount  of  Sdgur  was  brother  to  the  Count  of  S^gur,  from 
the  preface  to  whose  Memoirs  this  extract  is  taken. 


74      THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

consisted  in  no  small  part  in  distinguishing  perfectly  what 
was  due  to  every  one,  and  in  expressing  that  distinction 
with  lightness  and  grace.  Different  modes  of  address 
were  appropriate  toward  parents,  relations,  friends,  ac- 
quaintances, strangers,  your  superiors  in  rank,  your  poor 
dependents,  yet  all  must  be  treated  with  courtesy  and 
consideration.  Such  manners  are  possible  only  where 
social  distinctions  are  positively  ascertained.  In  old 
France,  at  least,  every  man  had  his  place  and  knew  where 
he  was. 

But  it  was  in  their  dealings  with  ladies  that  the  French- 
men of  that  day  showed  the  perfection  of  their  system. 
Vicious  they  might  be,  but  discourteous  they  were  not. 
No  well-bred  man  would  then  appear  in  a  lady's  room  care- 
lessly dressed,  or  in  boots.  In  speech  between  the  sexes, 
the  third  person  was  generally  used,  and  a  gentleman  in 
speaking  to  a  lady  dropped  his  voice  to  a  lower  tone  than 
he  employed  to  men.  Gentlemen  were  careful  before 
ladies  not  to  treat  even  each  other  with  familiarity.  Still 
less  would  one  of  them,  however  intimate  he  might  be 
with  a  lady's  husband  or  brother,  speak  to  her  of  his 
friend  by  any  name  less  formal  than  his  title.  These 
habits  have  left  their  mark  in  France  and  elsewhere  to 
this  day;  but  the  mark  is  fast  disappearing,  not  altogether 
to  the  advantage  of  social  life.^ 

Friendship  between  men  was  sometimes  carried  so  far 
as  to  interfere  with  the  claims  of  domestic  affection.  At 
least  it  was  faithful  and  sincere,  and  the  man  on  whom 
fortune  had  frowned,  the  fallen  minister,  or  the  disgraced 
courtier,  was  followed  in  his  adversity  by  the  kindness  of 
his  friends.  Of  all  the  virtues  this  is  perhaps  the  one 
which  in  our  hurried  age  tends  most  to  disappear.  It  is 
left  for  the  occupation  of  idle  hours,  and  the  smallest  piece 
of  triviality  which  can  be  tortured  into  the  name  of  busi- 
ness, is  allowed  to  crowd  away  those  constantly  repeated 
1  Genlis,  Dictionnaire  des  Etiquettes,  i.  94,  218  ;  ii.  194,  347. 


THE  NOBILITY.  75 

attentions  which  might  add  a  true  grace  and  refinement 
to  the  lives  of  those  who  gave  and  of  those  who  received 
them.  It  is  often  said  that  friendships  are  formed  only 
in  youth.  Is  not  this  partly  because  youth  alone  will  take 
time  to  form  them?  In  France,  before  the  Revolution, 
men  of  all  ages  made  friendships,  and  supported  them 
by  the  consideration  for  others  which  is  at  the  bottom  of 
all  politeness.  The  Frenchman  is  nervous  and  irritable. 
When  he  lets  his  temper  get  beyond  his  control,  he  is 
fierce  and  violent.  He  has  little  of  the  easy-going  good- 
nature under  inconveniences,  which  some  branches  of  the 
Teutonic  race  believe  themselves  to  possess.  He  has  less 
kindly  merriment  than  the  Tuscan.  But  he  has  trained 
himself  for  social  life ;  and  has  learned,  when  on  his  good 
behavior,  to  make  others  happy  about  him.  And  it  is 
part  of  the  well-bred  Frenchman's  pride  and  happiness  to 
be  almost  always  on  his  good  behavior. 

In  one  respect  Paris  in  the  eighteenth  century  was  more 
like  a  provincial  town  than  like  a  great  modern  capital. 
Acquaintanceship  had  not  swallowed  up  intimacy.  A 
man  or  a  woman  did  not  undertake  to  keep  on  terms  of 
civility  with  so  many  people  that  he  could  not  find  time 
to  see  his  best  friends  oftener  than  once  or  twice  a  year. 
The  much  vaunted  saIo7isoi  the  old  monarchy  were  charm- 
ing, in  great  measure  because  they  were  reasonably  organ- 
ized. An  agreeable  woman  would  draw  her  friends  about 
her;  they  would  meet  in  her  parlor  until  they  knew  each 
other,  and  would  be  together  often  enough  to  keep  touch 
intellectually.  The  talker  knew  his  audience  and  felt  at 
home  with  it.  The  listener  had  learned  to  expect  some- 
thing worth  hearing.  The  mistress  of  the  house  kept  lan- 
guage and  men  within  bounds,  and  had  her  own  way  of 
getting  rid  of  bores.  But  even  French  wit  and  vivacity 
were  not  always  equal  to  the  demands  upon  them.  "I 
remember,"  says  Montesquieu,  "that  I  once  had  the  curi- 
osity to  count  how  many  times  I  should  hear  a  little  story, 


76      THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

which  certainly  did  not  deserve  to  be  told  or  remembered ; 
during  three  weeks  that  it  occupied  the  polite  world,  1 
heard  it  repeated  two  hundred  and  twenty-five  times, 
which  pleased  me  much."^ 

Beside  the  tie  of  friendship  we  may  set  that  of  the  fam- 
ily. In  old  France  this  bond  was  much  closer  than  it  is 
in  modern  America.  If  a  man  rose  in  the  world,  the  ben- 
efit to  his  relations  was  greater  than  now ;  and  there  was 
no  theory  current  that  a  ruler,  or  a  man  in  a  position  of 
trust,  shoidd  exclude  from  the  places  under  him  those 
persons  with  whom  he  is  best  acquainted,  and  of  whose 
fidelity  to  himself  and  to  his  employers  he  has  most  rea- 
son to  be  sure.  On  the  other  hand,  a  disgrace  to  one 
member  of  a  family  spread  its  blight  on  all  the  others,  and 
the  judicial  condemnation  of  one  man  might  exclude  his 
near  relations  from  the  public  service  —  a  state  of  things 
which  was  beginning  to  be  repugnant  to  the  public  con- 
science, but  which  had  at  least  the  merit  of  forming  a 
strong  band  to  restrain  the  tempted  from  his  contemplated 
crime. 

In  fact,  the  old  idea  of  the  family  as  an  organic  whole, 
with  common  joys,  honors,  and  responsibilities,  common 
sorrows  and  disgraces,  was  giving  way  to  the  newer  notion 
of  individualism.  In  France,  however,  the  process  never 
went  so  far  as  it  has  done  in  some  other  countries,  includ- 
ing our  own. 

Good  manners  were  certainly  the  rule  at  the  French 
court,  but  there  were  exceptions,  and  not  inconspicuous 
ones,  for  Louis  XV.  was  an  unfeeling  man,  and  Louis 
XVI.  was  an  awkward  one.  When  Mademoiselle  Genet, 
fifteen  years  old,  was  first  engaged  as  reader  to  the  former 
king's  daughters,  she  was  in  a  state  of  agitation  easy  to 
imagine.  The  court  was  in  mourning,  and  the  great 
rooms  hung  with  black,  the  state  armchairs  on  platforms, 
several  steps  above  the  floor,  the  feathers  and  the  shoul- 
^  (Euvres,  vii.  179  {Pensees  diverses). 


THE   NOBILITY.  77 

der-knots  embroidered  with  tinsel  made  a  deep  impres- 
sion on  her.  When  the  king  first  approached,  she  thought 
him  very  imposing.  He  was  going  a-hunting,  and  was 
followed  by  a  numerous  train.  He  stopped  short  in  front 
of  the  young  girl  and  the  following  dialogue  took  place :  — 

"Mademoiselle  Genet,  I  am  told  that  you  are  very 
learned;  that  you  know  four  or  five  foreign  languages." 

"I  know  only  two,  sir,"  trembling. 

"Which  are  they?" 

"English  and  Italian." 

"Do  you  speak  them  fluently?  " 

"Yes,  sir,  very  fluently." 

"That 's  quite  enough  to  put  a  husband  out  of  temper;" 
and  the  king  went  on,  followed  by  his  laughing  train,  and 
left  the  poor  little  girl  standing  abashed  and  disconsolate.^ 

The  memoirs  of  the  time  are  full  of  stories  proving  that 
the  rigorous  enforcement  of  etiquette  and  the  general 
training  in  good  manners  had  not  done  away  with  eccen- 
tricity of  behavior.  The  Count  of  Osmont,  for  instance, 
was  continually  fidgeting  with  anything  that  might  come 
under  his  hand,  and  could  not  see  a  snuff-box  without 
ladling  out  the  snuff  with  three  fingers,  and  sprinkling  it 
over  his  clothes  like  a  Swiss  porter.  He  sometimes  va- 
ried this  pleasant  performance  by  putting  the  box  itseK 
under  his  nose,  to  the  great  disgust  of  whomever  happened 
to  be  its  owner.  He  once  spent  a  week  at  the  house  of 
Madame  de  Vassy,  a  lady  who  was  young  and  good- 
looking  enough,  but  stiff  and  ceremonious.  This  lady 
wore  a  skirt  of  crimson  velvet  over  a  big  panier,  and  was 
covered  with  pearls  and  diamonds.  Madame  de  Vassy 
would  not  reprove  Monsieur  d' Osmont  in  words  for  his 
method  of  treating  her  magnificent  golden  snuff-box ;  but 
used  to  get  up  from  her  place  at  the  card-table  as  soon  as 
he  had  so  used  it,  empty  all  the  snuff  into  the  fireplace, 
and  ring  for  more.  D' Osmont,  meanwhile,  would  go  on 
1  Campan,  i.  pp.  vi.  viii. 


78      THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

without  noticing  her,  laugli  and  swear  over  liis  cards,  and 
get  in  a  passion  with  himself  if  the  luck  ran  against  him. 
Yet  when  he  was  not  playing,  the  man  was  lively,  modest 
and  amiable,  and  except  for  his  fidgety  habits,  had  the 
tone  of  the  best  society.-^ 

That  which  above  all  things  distinguished  the  French 
nobility,  and  especially  the  highest  ranks  of  it,  from 
the  rest  of  mankind  was  the  amount  of  leisure  which  it 
enjoyed.  Most  people  in  the  world  have  to  work,  most 
aristocracies  to  govern.  The  English  gentleman  of  the 
eighteenth  century  farmed  his  estates,  acted  as  a  magis- 
trate, took  part  in  politics.  Living  in  the  country,  he 
was  a  mighty  hunter.  The  French  nobleman,  unless  he 
were  an  officer  in  the  army  (and  even  the  officers  had  in- 
ordinately long  leave  of  absence),  had  nothing  to  do  but 
to  kill  time.  Only  the  poorer  country  gentlemen  ever 
thought  of  farming  their  own  lands.  For  the  unemployed 
nobles  of  Paris,  there  was  but  occasional  sport  to  be  had. 
Indeed,  the  Frenchman,  although  he  likes  the  more  violent 
and  tumultuous  kinds  of  hunting,  is  not  easily  interested 
in  the  quieter  and  more  lasting  varieties  of  sport.  He 
will  joyfully  chase  the  wild  boar,  when  horses,  dogs,  and 
horns,  with  the  admiration  of  his  friends  and  servants, 
concur  to  keep  his  blood  boiling ;  but  he  will  not  care  to 
plod  alone  through  the  woods  for  a  long  afternoon  on  the 
chance  of  bringing  home  a  brace  of  woodcock ;  nor  can  he 
mention  fishing  without  a  sneer.  Being  thus  deprived  of 
the  chief  resource  by  which  Anglo-Saxons  combine  activity 
and  indolence,  the  French  nobility  cultivated  to  their  high- 
est pitch  those  human  pleasures  which  are  at  once  the  most 
vivid  and  the  most  delicate.  They  devoted  themselves  to 
society  and  to  love-making.  Too  quick-witted  to  fall  into 
sloth,  too  proud  to  become  drunkards  or  gluttons,  they 
dissipated  their  lives  in  conversation  and  stained  their 
souls  with  intrigue.  Never,  probably,  have  the  arts  which 
1  Dufort,  ii.  46. 


THE  NOBILITY.  79 

make  social  intercourse  delightful  been  carried  to  so  high 
a  degree  of  excellence  as  among  them.  Kever  perhaps,  in 
a  Christian  country,  have  offenses  against  the  laws  of  mar- 
riage been  so  readily  condoned,  where  outward  decency 
was  not  violated,  as  in  the  upper  circles  of  France  in  the 
century  preceding  the  Revolution. 

The  vice  of  Parisian  society  under  Louis  XV.  and  his 
grandson  presented  a  curious  character.  Adultery  had 
acquired  a  regular  standing,  and  connections  dependent 
upon  it  were  openly,  if  tacitly  recognized.  Such  iUicit 
alliances  were  even  governed  by  a  morality  of  their  own, 
and  the  attempt  to  induce  a  woman  to  be  unfaithful  to 
her  criminal  lover  might  be  treated  as  an  insult.  ^  But 
this  pedantry  of  vice  was  not  always  maintained.  There 
were  men  and  women  in  high  life  who  changed  their  con- 
nections very  frequently,  yielding  to  the  caprice  of  the 
moment,  as  the  senses  or  the  wit  might  lead  them.  Such 
people  were  not  passionate,  but  simply  depraved;  yet  the 
mass  of  the  community,  deterred  partly  by  fear  of  ridicule, 
and  partly  by  the  Philosophic  spirit  which  had  decided 
that  chastity  was  not  a  part  of  natural  morals,  did  not 
visit  them  with  very  severe  condemnation. 

If  eccentricity  sometimes  overrode  etiquette  and  even 
politeness,  good  morals  and  religion  not  infrequently  made 
a  stand  against  corruption.  There  were  loving  wives  and 
careful  mothers  among  the  highest  nobility.  Of  the 
Duchess  of  Ayen  we  get  a  description  from  her  children. 
Her  mansion  was  in  the  Rue  St.  Honore,  and  had  a  garden 
running  back  ahnost  to  that  of  the  Tuileries  (for  the  Rue 
de  Rivoli  was  not  then  in  existence).  The  house  was 
known  for  the  beauty  of  its  apartments,  and  for  the  superb 

1  Witness  Rousseau  and  Mine.  d'Houdetot  in  the  Confessions. 
Mile.  d'Aydie  was  accounted  very  virtuous  for  dissuading  her  lover 
from  marrying  her,  even  after  the  birth  of  her  child,  for  fear  of  in- 
juring his  prospects.  Yet  the  match  would  not  seemj  to  modern 
ideas,  to  have  been  a  very  unequal  one. 


80      THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

collection  of  pictures  which  it  contained.  After  dinner, 
which  was  served  at  three  o'clock,  the  duchess  would  re- 
tire to  her  bedchamber,  a  large  room  hung  with  crimson 
damask,  and  take  her  place  in  a  great  armchair  by  the 
fire.  Her  books,  her  work,  her  snuff-box,  were  within 
reach.  She  would  call  her  five  girls  about  her.  These, 
on  chairs  and  footstools,  squabbling  gently  at  times  for 
the  places  next  their  mother,  would  tell  of  their  excur- 
sions, their  lessons,  the  little  events  of  every  day.  There 
was  nothing  frivolous  in  their  education.  Their  old  nurse 
had  not  filled  their  minds  with  fairy  tales,  but  with  sto- 
ries from  the  Old  Testament  and  with  anecdotes  of  heroic 
actions. 

The  pleasures  of  these  girls  were  simple.  Once  or 
twice  in  a  summer  they  went  on  a  visit  to  their  ^grand- 
father, the  Marshal  de  Noailles  at  Saint  Germain  en  Laye. 
In  the  autumn  they  spent  a  week  with  their  other  grand- 
father, Monsieur  d'Aguesseau  at  Fresnes.  An  excursion 
into  the  suburbs,  a  ride  on  donkeys  on  the  slopes  of  Mont 
Valerien,  made  up  their  innocent  dissipations.  Their 
most  frivolous  excitement  was  to  see  their  governess  fall 
off  her  donkey. 

The  piety  of  the  duchess  might  in  some  respects  appear 
extravagant.  Her  fourth  daughter  had  two  beggars  of 
the  parish  for  god-parents,  as  a  constant  reminder  of  hu- 
mility. The  same  child  was  of  a  violent  and  willful  dis- 
position, but  was  converted  at  the  age  of  eleven  and  be- 
came mild,  patient,  and  studious.  The  conversion  of  so 
young  a  sinner,  and  the  seriousness  with  which  the  event 
was  treated  by  the  family,  seem  rather  to  belong  to  the 
atmosphere  of  Puritanism  than  to  that  of  the  Catholi- 
cism of  the  eighteenth  century.  But  if  the  religion  of 
the  Duchess  of  Ayen  sometimes  led  her  to  fantastic  ex- 
tremes, these  were  not  its  principal  characteristics.  Her 
piety  was  applied  to  the  conduct  of  her  daily  life  and  to 
the  education  of  her  daughters  in  honesty,  reasonableness, 


THE  NOBILITY.  81 

and  seK-devotion.  Their  faith  and  hers  were  to  be  tested 
by  the  hardest  trials,  and  to  be  victorious  both  iii  prison 
and  on  the  scaffold.  We  are  fortunate  in  possessing  their 
biographies.  In  how  many  cases  at  the  same  time  and 
in  the  same  country  did  similar  virtues  go  unrecorded  ?  ^ 

As  for  the  smaller  nobility,  the  "sparrow  hawks," ^  liv- 
ing in  the  country,  they  dwelt  among  their  less  exalted 
neighbors,  doing  good  or  evil  as  the  character  of  each  one 
of  them  directed.  Sometimes  we  find  them  on  friendly 
terms  with  the  villagers,  acting  as  godfathers  and  god- 
mothers to  the  children,  summoning  the  peasants  to  take 
part  in  the  chase,  or  to  dance  in  the  courtyard  of  the 
castle.  We  find  them  endowing  hospitals,  giving  alms, 
keeping  an  eye  on  the  conduct  of  the  village  priest.  A 
continual  interchange  of  presents  goes  on  between  the 
cottaofe  and  the  o^reat  house.  A  new  lord  is  welcomed 
by  salvos  of  musketry,  the  ladies  of  his  family  are  met  by 
young  girls  bearing  flowers.  Such  relations  as  these  are 
said  to  have  grown  less  common  as  the  great  Revolution 
drew  near.  It  has  often  been  remarked  of  the  Vendee 
and  Brittany,  where  a  larger  proportion  of  lords  resided 
on  their  estates  than  was  the  case  elsewhere,  that  a 
friendlier  feeling  was  there  cultivated  between  the  upper 
and  the  lower  classes ;  and  that  it  was  in  those  provinces 
that  a  stand  was  made  by  lords  and  peasants  alike  for 
the  maintenance  of  the  old  order  of  things.  In  some 
parts  of  the  country  the  peasants  and  their  lords  were 
continually  quarreling  and  going  to  law.  The  royal  in- 
tendant  was  besieged  with  complaints.  The  poor  could 
not  get  their  pay  for  their  work.  They  received  blows 
instead  of  money.  Arrogance  and  injustice  on  the  one 
side  were  met  by  im\Kidence  and  fraud  on  the  other. 
The  old  leadership  had  passed  away.  The  upper  class 
had  lost  its  power  and  its  responsibility ;  it  insisted  the 

1  Vide  Madame  de  Lafayette,  Mme.  de  Montagu. 

2  Hoberaux. 


82      THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

more  tenaciously  on  its  privileges.  Exemption  from  cer- 
tain taxes  was  the  chief  of  these,  but  there  were  others 
as  irritating  if  less  important.  Quarrels  arose  with  the 
priest  about  the  lord's  right  to  be  first  given  the  holy 
water.  One  vicar  in  his  wrath  deluged  his  lordship's 
new  wig. 

In  general,  we  may  conceive  of  the  lesser  nobles,  de- 
prived of  their  useful  function  of  regulating  and  adminis- 
tering the  country,  leading  somewhat  penurious  and  use- 
less lives.  They  hunted  a  good  deal,  they  slept  long. 
Generally  they  did  not  eat  overmuch,  for  gluttony  is  not 
a  vice  of  their  race.  They  grumbled  at  the  ascendency 
of  the  court,  and  at  the  new  army-regulations.  They 
preserved  in  their  families  the  noble  virtues  of  dignity 
and  obedience.  Children  asked  their  parents'  blessing  on 
their  knees  before  they  went  to  bed.  The  elder  Mira- 
beau,  the  grim  Friend  of  Men,  still  knelt  nightly  before 
his  mother  in  his  fiftieth  year.  The  children  honored 
their  parents  in  fact  as  well  as  in  form,  and  took  no  im- 
portant step  in  life  without  paternal  consent.  The  boys 
ran  rather  wild  in  their  youth,  but  settled  down  at  the  ap- 
proach of  middle  life;  the  oldest  inheriting  the  few  or 
barren  paternal  acres;  the  younger  sons  equally  noble, 
and  thus  debarred  from  lucrative  occupations,  pushing 
their  fortunes  in  the  army.  The  girls  were  married  young 
or  went  into  a  convent.  Marriages  were  arranged  en- 
tirely by  the  parents.  "My  father,"  said  a  young  noble- 
man, "  I  am  told  that  you  have  agreed  on  a  marriage  for 
me.  "Would  you  be  kind  enough  to  tell  me  if  the  report 
be  true,  and  what  is  the  name  of  the  lady?  "  "My  son," 
answered  his  parent,  "be  so  good  as  to  mind  your  own 
business,  and  not  to  come  to  me  with  questions."  ^ 

1  Babeau,  Le  Village^  158.  Ch.  de  Ribbe,  169.  Mme.  de  Mon- 
tagu, 57.  Genlis,  Dictionnaire  des  Etiquettes ^  i.  71.  Lavergne,  Les 
Economistes,  127. 


CHAPTER   VII. 

THE   ARMY. 

The  nobility  of  France  was  essentially  a  military  class. 
Its  privileges  were  claimed  on  account  of  services  rendered 
in  the  field.  The  priests  pray,  the  nobles  fight,  the  com- 
mons pay  for  all;  such  was  the  theory  of  the  state.  It  is 
true  that  the  nobility  no  longer  furnished  the  larger  part 
of  the  armies ;  that  the  old  feudal  levies  of  ban  and  rear- 
ban,  in  which  the  baron  rode  at  the  head  of  his  vassals, 
were  no  longer  called  out.  But  still  the  soldier's  life  was 
considered  the  proper  career  of  the  nobleman.  A  large 
proportion  of  the  members  of  the  order  were  commis- 
sioned officers,  and  most  officers  were  members  of  the 
order. 

The  rule  which  required  proofs  of  nobility  as  a  prere- 
quisite to  obtaining  a  commission  was  not  severely  enforced 
in  the  reign  of  Louis  XV. ,  and  in  the  earlier  years  of  his 
successor.  In  many  regiments  it  was  usual  to  promote 
one  or  two  deserving  sergeants  every  year.  In  others  the 
necessary  certificate  of  birth  coidd  be  signed  by  any  noble- 
man and  was  often  obtained  from  greed  or  good-nature. 
Moreover,  an  order  of  1750  had  provided  that  officers  of 
plebeian  extraction  should  sometimes  be  ennobled  for  dis- 
tinguished services.  But  in  1781,  a  new  rule  was  estab- 
lished. No  one  could  thenceforth  receive  a  commission 
as  second  lieutenant  who  could  not  show  four  generations 
of  nobility  on  his  father's  side,  counting  himself.  Thus 
were  all  members  of  families  recently  ennobled  excluded 
from  the  service,  and  no  door  was  left  open  to  the  military 
ambition  of  people  belonging  to  the  middle  class ;  although 


84      THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

that  class  was  yearly  increasing  in  importance.  More- 
over, strict  genealogical  proofs  were  required,  the  candi- 
date for  a  commission  having  to  submit  his  papers  to  the 
royal  herald.  Exceptions  were  made  in  favor  of  the  sons 
of  members  of  the  military  order  of  Saint  Louis. ^ 

But  all  nobles  were  not  on  the  same  footing  in  the 
army.  Among  the  regimental  officers  two  classes  might 
be  distinguished.  There  were,  on  the  one  hand,  the  en- 
signs, lieutenants,  captains,  majors,  and  lieutenant-colo- 
nels, who  generally  belonged  to  the  poorer  nobility.  They 
served  long  and  for  small  pay,  with  little  hope  of  the  more 
brilliant  rewards  of  the  profession.  They  did  their  work 
and  stayed  with  their  regiments,  although  leave  of  ab- 
sence was  not  difficult  to  obtain  in  time  of  peace.  Their 
lives  were  hard  and  frugal,  a  captain's  pay  not  exceeding 
twenty -five  hundred  livres,  which  was  perhaps  doubled  by 
allowances.  On  the  other  hand  were  the  colonels  and 
second  colonels,  young  men  of  influential  families,  who, 
at  most,  passed  through  the  lower  ranks  to  learn  some- 
thing of  the  duties  of  an  officer.  Their  commissions  were 
procured  by  favor.  There  was  scarce  a  bishop  about  the 
court  who  did  not  have  a  candidate  for  a  colonelcy, 
scarcely  a  pretty  woman  who  did  not  aspire  to  make  her 
friend  a  captain.  The  rich  young  men,  thus  promoted, 
threw  their  money  about  freely  in  camp  and  garrison. 
Thus  if  the  nobility  had  exclusive  privileges,  the-  court 
had  privileges  that  excluded  those  of  the  rest  of  the  nobil- 
ity, and  in  the  very  last  days  of  the  old  monarchy,  these 
also  were  enhanced.  The  Board  of  War  in  1788,  decided 
that  no  one  should  become  a  general  officer  who  had  not 

^  Sdgur,  i.  82,  158.  Cherest,  i.  14.  Anciennes  lois  fran^aises,  22d 
May,  1781.  The  regiments  to  which  the  regulation  applies  are  those 
of  French  infantry  (not  foreign  regiments),  cavalry,  light  horse, 
dragoons,  and  chasseurs  a  cheval.  This  would  seem  to  exclude  the 
artillery  and  engineers .  The  foreign  regiments  appear  to  have  been 
included  in  a  later  order.     Cherest,  i.  24. 


THE  ARMY.  85 

previously  been  a  colonel ;  and  colonels'  commissions,  be- 
sides being  very  expensive,  were  given,  as  above  stated, 
by  favor  alone.  Thus  on  the  eve  of  the  Revolution  were 
the  bands  of  privilege  drawn  tighter  in  France.^ 

The  colonels  thus  appointed  were  generally  not  wanting 
in  courage.  The  French  nobility  of  all  degrees  was 
ready  enough  to  give  its  blood  on  the  battle-field.  Thus 
the  son  of  the  Duke  of  Boufflers,  fourteen  years  old,  had 
been  made  colonel  of  the  regiment  which  bore  the  name 
of  his  family.  The  duke  served  as  a  lieutenant-general 
in  the  same  army.  Fearing  that  the  boy  might  not  know 
how  to  behave  in  battle,  the  father,  on  the  first  occasion, 
obtained  permission  from  the  Marshal,  Maurice  de  Saxe, 
commander  of  the  army,  to  accompany  his  son  as  a  volun- 
teer. The  boy's  regiment  was  ordered  to  attack  the  in- 
trenched village  of  Raucoux.  The  young  colonel  and  his 
father,  followed  by  two  pages,  led  their  men  against  the 
intrenchments.  When  they  reached  the  works,  the  duke 
took  his  son  in  his  arms  and  threw  him  over  the  parapet. 
He  himself  followed,  and  both  came  off  unhurt,  but  the 
two  pages  were  shot  dead.^ 

In  America,  as  in  Europe,  the  young  favorites  of  for- 
tune were  ready  enough  to  fight.  Such  men  as  Lauzim, 
Segur,  or  the  Viscount  of  Noailles  asked  nothing  better 
than  adventures,  whether  of  war  or  love;  but  in  peace 
they  could  not  be  looked  on  as  satisfactory  or  hard-work- 
ing officers.  Yet  they  and  their  like  continued  to  get  ad- 
vancement. Ordinances  might  be  passed  from  time  to 
time,  requiring  age  or  length  of  service,  but  ordinances 
in  old  France  did  not  apply  to  the  great.  The  poorer 
nobility  might  grumble,  but  the  court  families  continued 
to  get  the  good  places.  The  lieutenant-colonels  and  the 
other  workinjr  officers  of  the  armv  had  but  little  chance 
of  rising  to  be  general  officers.  Even  before  the  order  of 
1788,  promotion  fell  to  the  courtier  colonels.     The  baton 

1  S^gur,  i.  154.     Chdrest,  u.  90.  2  Moutbarey,  i.  38. 


86      THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

of  the  marshals  of  France  was  placed  in  the  hands  only  of 
the  very  highest  nobility.  All  over  Europe  in  the  seven* 
teenth  and  eighteenth  centuries,  armies  were  often  com- 
manded by  men  born  to  princely  rank.  That  this  did 
not  necessarily  mean  that  they  were  ill  commanded  may 
be  shown  by  the  names  of  Turenne  and  Conde,  Maurice 
de  Saxe  and  Eugene  of  Savoy,  Prince  Henry  of  Prussia 
and  Frederick  the  Great. 

While  the  higher  commands  were  thus  monopolized  (or 
nearly  so)  by  the  rich  and  powerful,  the  poorer  nobility 
flocked  into  the  army,  to  occupy  the  subordinate  ranks 
of  commissioned  officers.  Sometimes  they  came  through 
the  military  schools.  The  most  important  of  these  had 
been  founded  at  Paris  in  1750,  by  the  financier  Paris-Du- 
verney.  Here  several  hundred  young  gentlemen,  mostly 
born  poor  and  preferably  the  sons  of  officers,  received 
a  military  education.  The  boys  came  to  the  school  from 
their  homes  in  the  country  between  the  ages  of  nine  and 
eleven,  rustic  little  figures  sometimes,  in  wooden  shoes 
and  woolen  caps,  like  the  peasant  lads  who  had  been  their 
early  playmates.  They  were  taught  the  duties  of  gentle- 
men and  officers,  cleanliness,  an  upright  carriage,  the 
manual  and  tactics,  and  something  of  military  science. 
Other  schools,  kept  by  monks,  existed  in  the  provinces 
where  the  young  aspirants  for  commissions  learned  en- 
gineering and  the  theory  of  artillery.  But  many  young 
noblemen  entered  their  career  by  a  process  more  in  ac- 
cordance with  youthful  tastes.  We  find  boys  in  camp  in 
time  of  war,  evading  the  orders  which  forbade  entering 
the  service  before  the  age  of  sixteen.  Children  of  twelve 
and  thirteen  are  wounded  in  battle.^ 

As  the  only  form  of  active  life  in  which  most  nobles 

could  take  part  was  found  in  the  army,  there  was  always 

too  large  a  number  of  officers,  and  too  great  a  proportion 

of  the  military  expenses  was  devoted  to  them.     In  1787 

1  Babeau,  Vie  militairet  ii.  7,  45.    Montbarey,  i.  18.^. 


THE  ARMY.  87 

hardly  more  than  one  in  three  of  those  holding  commis- 
sions was  in  active  service.  The  number  of  soldiers 
under  Louis  XVI.  was  less  than  a  hundred  and  fifty 
thousand  actually  with  the  colors.  There  were  thirty-six 
thousand  officers,  on  paper;  thirteen  thousand  actively 
employed.  The  soldiers  cost  the  state  44,100,000  livres 
a  year,  the  officers  46,400,000  livres. ^ 

The  relation  between  the  officers  and  the  soldiers  of  the 
old  French  army  was  more  intimate  and  kindly  than  that 
existing  in  any  other  European  army  of  the  time.  For 
both,  their  regiment  was  a  home,  and  the  military  service 
a  lifelong  profession.  They  had  entered  it  young,  and 
they  hoped  to  die  in  it.  Their  relation  to  each  other  had 
become  a  part  of  the  structure  of  their  minds;  a  con- 
dition of  coherent  thought.  A  soldier  might  rise  from 
the  ranks  and  become  a  lieutenant,  or  even  a  captain,  but 
such  promotion  was  infrequent ;  few  common  soldiers  had 
the  education  or  the  means  to  aspire  to  it.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  command  of  a  company  was  sometimes  almost 
hereditary.  The  captain  might  be  lord  of  the  village  in 
which  his  soldiers  were  born.  In  that  case  he  would  care 
for  them  in  sickness,  and  perhaps  even  grant  a  furlough 
when  the  private  was  much  needed  by  his  family  at  home. 
His  own  chance  of  promotion  was  small.  He  expected 
to  do  the  work  of  his  life  in  that  company,  among  those 
soldiers,  with  perhaps  his  younger  brother,  or,  in  time, 
his  son,  as  his  lieutenant.  It  would  seem  that  in  the 
years  immediately  preceding  the  French  Revolution  these 
kindly  relations  were  in  some  measure  dying  out.  The 
captain  was  no  longer  so  closely  connected  with  his  com- 
pany as  he  had  been.  Officialism  was  taking  the  place  of 
those  personal  connections  which  had  characterized  the 
feudal  system.  The  gulf  between  soldiers  and  officers,  if 
nftt  harder  to  cross  for  the  ambitious,  separated  the  com- 

1  Babcau,  Vie  rnilitaire,  i.  15  ;  ii.  90, 145.    Necker,  De  V Administra- 
lion,  ii.  415,  418. 


88      THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

monplace  members  of  each  group  more  widely  from  those 
of  the  other.  ^ 

The  private  soldiers  of  King  Louis  XVI.,  who  stood 
in  lono-  white  lines  on  parade  at  Newport,  while  their 
many  colored  flags  floated  above  and  the  officers  bran- 
dished their  spontoons  in  front,  or  who  rushed  in  night 
attack  on  the  advanced  redoubt  at  Yorktown,  were  not, 
like  modern  European  soldiers,  brought  together  by  con- 
scription. They  were,  nominally  at  least,  volunteers. 
Unruly  lads,  mechanics  out  of  work,  runaway  apprentices, 
v/ere  readily  drawn  into  the  service  by  skillful  recruiting 
officers.  Thirty  years  before,  it  had  been  the  custom  of 
these  landsharks  to  cheat  or  bully  young  men  into  the 
service.  The  raw  youth,  arriving  in  Paris  from  the  coun- 
try, had  been  offered  by  a  chance  acquaintance  a  place  as 
servant  in  a  gentleman's  family,  and  after  signing  an  en- 
gagement had  found  himself  bound  for  eight  years  to  serve 
His  Majesty,  in  one  of  his  regiments  of  foot.  The  young 
barber-surgeon  had  waked  from  a  carouse  with  the  king's 
silver  in  his  pocket.  Such  things  were  still  common  in 
Germany.  In  France  some  effort  had  been  made  to  reg- 
ulate the  activity  of  the  recruiting  officers.  Complaints 
of  force  or  fraud  in  enlistment  received  attention  from  the 
authorities.  The  soldiers  of  Louis  XVL,  therefore,  were 
engaged  with  comparative  fairness.  The  infantry  came 
mostly  from  the  towns,  the  cavalry  and  artillery  from  the 
country.  The  soldiers  were  derived  from  the  lowest  part 
of  the  population.  Whether  they  improved  or  deterio- 
rated in  the  service  depended  on  their  officers.  In  any 
case  they  became  entirely  absorbed  in  it.  The  soldier  did 
not  keep  even  the  name  by  which  he  had  been  known  in 
common  life.  He  assumed,  or  was  given,  a  iiom  de  guerre 
such  as  La  Tulippe,  La  Tendresse,  Pollux,  Pot-de-Vin, 
Vide-bouteille,  or  Ya-de-bon-coeur.     His  term  of  service 

1  Babeau,  Vie  militaire,  i.  43,  189.  Montbarey,  ii.  272.  Moore'g 
View,  i.  365. 


THE   ARMY.  89 

was  seven  or  eight  years,  but  he  was  by  no  means  sure 
of  getting  a  fair  discharge  at  the  end  of  it ;  and  was  in 
any  case  likely  to  reenlist.  Thus  the  recruit  had  in  fact 
entered  upon  the  profession  of  his  life.^ 

The  uniforms  of  the  day  were  ill  adapted  to  campaign- 
ing. The  French  soldier  of  the  line  wore  white  clothes 
with  colored  trimmings,  varying  according  to  his  regi- 
ment. On  his  head  was  perched  the  triangular  cocked  hat 
of  the  period,  standing  well  out  over  his  ears,  but  hardly 
shading  his  eyes.  Beneath  it  his  hair  was  powdered,  or 
rather,  pasted ;  for  the  powder  was  sifted  on  to  the  wet 
hair,  and  caked  in  the  process.  The  condition  of  the  mass 
after  a  rainy  night  at  the  camp-fire  may  be  imagined.  In 
some  regiments  the  wearing  of  a  moustache  was  required, 
and  those  soldiers  whom  nature  had  not  supplied  with  such 
an  ornament  were  obliged  to  put  on  a  false  one,  fastened 
with  pitch,  which  was  liable  to  cause  abcesses  on  the 
lip.  Sometimes  a  fine,  uniform  color  was  produced  in 
the  moustaches  of  a  whole  regiment  by  means  of  boot- 
blacking.  Broad  white  belts  were  crossed  upon  the  breast. 
The  linen  gaiters,  white  on  parade,  black  for  the  march, 
came  well  above  the  knee,  and  a  superfluous  number  of 
garters  impeded  the  step.  It  was  a  tedious  matter  to  put 
these  things  on ;  and  if  a  pebble  got  in  through  a  button- 
hole, the  soldier  was  tempted  to  leave  it  in  his  shoe,  until 
it  had  made  his  foot  sore.  Uniforms  were  seldom  re- 
newed. The  coat  was  expected  to  last  three  years,  the 
hat  two,  the  breeches  one.^ 

All  parts  of  the  soldier's  uniform  were  tight  and  close 
fitting.  I  think  that  this  was  learned  from  the  Prussians. 
The  ideal  of  the  army  as  a  machine  seems  to  have  origi- 

1  Babeau,  Vie  militaire,  i.  55,  136,  182.  Mercier,  x.  273.  Sdgur,  i. 
222  ;  Encyc.  meth.     Art  milit.  ii.  177  {Desertion). 

2  Babeau,  Vie  militaire,  i.  93.  Encyc.  meth.  Art  milit.  i.  589  (Chaus- 
sure)  ii.  179.  Susane,  ix.  (Plates).  See  also  a  very  interesting  little 
book  by  a  great  raau,  Maurice  de  Saxe,  Les  Reveries. 


90  THE   EVE   OF  THE   FRENCH   REVOLUTION. 

nated,  or  at  least  to  have  been  first  worked  out  in  Ger- 
many. Such  an  ideal  was  a  natural  consequence  of  the 
military  system  of  the  age.  Of  the  soldiers  of  Frederick 
the  Great  only  one-half  were  his  born  subjects.  Other 
German  princes  enlisted  as  many  foreigners  as  they  could. 
In  the  French  army  were  many  regiments  of  foreign  mer- 
cenaries. Nowhere  was  the  pay  high,  or  the  soldier  well 
treated.  Desertion  was  very  common.  Under  these  cir- 
cumstances mechanical  precision  became  an  invaluable 
quality.  The  soldier  must  be  held  in  very  strict  bands, 
for  if  left  free  he  might  turn  against  the  power  that  em- 
ployed him. 

The  connection  between  a  rigid  system  in  which  no- 
thing is  left  to  the  soldier's  intelligence  or  initiative,  and  a 
tight  uniform,  which  confines  his  movements,  is  both  deep 
and  evident.  If  a  man  is  never  to  have  his  own  way,  his 
master  will  inevitably  find  means  to  make  him  needlessly 
uncomfortable.  As  the  modern  owner  of  a  horse  some- 
times diminishes  the  working  power  of  the  animal  by 
check-reins  and  martingales,  so  the  despot  of  the  eigh- 
teenth century  buckled  and  buttoned  his  military  cattle 
into  shape,  and  made  them  take  unnatural  paces.  But 
even  under  these  disadvantages  the  French  soldiers  sur- 
passed all  others  in  grace  and  ease  of  bearing.  Officers 
were  sometimes  accused  of  sacrificing  the  efficiency  of 
their  commands  to  appearances.  The  evolutions  of  the 
troops  involved  steps  more  appropriate  to  the  dancing- 
master  than  to  the  drill  sergeant.  ^  Such  criticisms  as 
these  have  often  been  made  on  the  French  soldier  by  his 
own  countrymen  and  by  foreigners.  But  those  who  think 
he  can  be  trifled  with  on  this  account,  are  apt  to  find 
themselves  terribly  mistaken. 

The  food  of  the  soldiers  was  coarse  and  barely  suffi- 
cient.    The  pay  was  so  absorbed  by  the  requirements  of 
the  uniform,  many  of  the  smaller  parts  of  which  were  at 
1  Montbarey,  ii.  272, 


THE   ARMY.  91 

the  expense  o£  the  men,  and  by  the  diet,  that  little  was 
left  for  the  almost  necessary  comforts  of  drink  and  to- 
bacco. The  barracks,  handsome  outside,  were  close  and 
crowded  within.  During  this  reign  orders  were  given 
that  only  two  men  should  sleep  in  a  bed.  In  some  garri- 
sons soldiers  were  still  billeted  on  the  inhabitants.  In 
sickness  they  were  better  cared  for  than  civilians,  the 
military  hospitals  being  decidedly  better  than  those  open 
to  the  general  public.^ 

If  we  compare  the  material  condition  of  the  French  sol- 
dier in  the  latter  years  of  the  old  monarchy  with  that  of 
other  European  soldiers  of  his  day,  we  shall  find  him 
about  as  well  treated  as  they  were.  If  we  compare  those 
times  with  these,  we  shaU  find  that  he  is  now  better 
clothed,  but  not  better  fed  than  he  was  then.^ 

"The  soldiers  are  very  clean,"  writes  an  English  traveler 
in  France  in  the  year  1789;  "so  far  from  being  meagre 
and  ill-looking  fellows,  as  John  Bull  would  persuade  us, 
they  are  well-formed,  tall,  handsome  men,  and  have  a 
cheerfulness  and  civility  in  their  countenances  and  man- 
ner which  is  peculiarly  pleasing.  They  also  looked  very 
healthy,  great  care  is  taken  of  them."^ 

The  period  of  twenty -five  years  that  preceded  the  Rev- 
olution was  a  time  of  attempted  reform  in  the  French 
army.  The  defeats  of  the  Seven  Years'  War  had  served 
as  a  lesson.  The  Duke  of  Choiseul,  the  able  minister  of 
Louis  XV.,  abolished  many  abuses.  The  manoeuvres  of 
the  troops  became  more  regular,  the  discipline  stricter 
and  more  exact  for  a  time.  The  Duke  of  Aiguillon  ousted 
Choiseul,  by  making  himseK  the  courtier  of  the  strumpet 

1  Lafayette  told  the  Assembly  of  Notables  in  1787  that  the  food  of 
the  soldiers  was  insufficient  for  their  maintenance.  Mcmoires,  i.  215. 
S^gur,  i.  IGl. 

2  Babeau,  Vie  militaire,  i.  374. 
«  Rigby,  13. 


02      THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

Du  Barry,  and  things  appear  to  have  slipped  back.  Then 
the  old  king  died,  and  Aiguillon  followed  his  accomplice 
into  exile.  Louis  XVI.  found  his  finances  in  disorder, 
his  army  and  navy  demoralized.  The  death  of  the  minis- 
ter of  war  in  1775  gave  him  the  opportunity  to  make  one 
of  his  well-meant  and  feeble  attempts  at  reform.  He 
called  to  the  ministry  an  old  soldier,  the  Count  of  Saint- 
Germain,  who  had  for  some  time  been  living  in  retirement. 
The  count  had  seen  much  foreign  service,  was  in  full  sym- 
pathy neither  with  the  French  army  nor  with  the  French 
court,  and  was  moreover  a  man  who  had  little  knack  at 
getting  on  with  anybody.  He  had  written  a  paper  on  mili- 
tary reforms,  and  thus  attracted  notice.  In  vain,  when  in 
office,  he  attacked  some  crying  abuses,  especially  the  priv- 
ileges granted  to  favored  regiments  and  favored  persons. 
While  he  disgusted  the  court  in  this  way,  he  raised  a 
storm  of  indignation  in  the  army  by  his  love  of  foreign 
innovations,  and  especially  of  one  practice  considered 
deeply  degrading.  This  was  the  punishment  of  minor 
offenses  by  flogging  with  the  flat  of  the  sword ;  using  a 
weapon  especially  made  for  that  purpose.  The  arguments 
in  favor  of  this  punishment  are  obvious.  It  is  expedi- 
tious ;  it  is  disagreeable  to  the  sufferer,  but  does  not  rob 
the  state  of  his  services,  nor  subject  him  to  the  bad  influ- 
ences and  foul  air  of  the  guard-house.  The  objections 
are  equally  apparent.  Flogging,  which  seems  the  most 
natural  and  simple  of  punishments  to  many  men  in  an 
advanced  state  of  civilization,  is  hated  by  others,  hardly 
more  civilized,  with  a  deadly  hatred.  In  the  former  case 
it  inflicts  but  a  moderate  injury  upon  the  skin;  in  the 
latter,  it  strikes  deep  into  the  mind  and  soul.  It  would 
be  hard  to  say  beforehand  in  which  way  a  nation  will  take 
it.  The  English  soldier  of  Waterloo,  like  the  German  of 
Eossbach,  received  the  lash  almost  as  a  joke.  The  French- 
man, their  unsuccessful  opponent  on  those  flelds,  could 
hardly  endure  it.    Grenadiers  wept  at  inflicting  the  sword 


THE   ARMY.  93 

stroke,  and  their  colonel  mingled  his  tears  with  theirs. 
"Strike  with  the  point,"  cried  a  soldier,  "it  hurts  less!  " 

To  some  of  the  foreigners  in  the  French  service  this 
sensitiveness  seemed  absurd.  The  Count  of  Saint-Ger- 
main consulted,  on  the  subject,  a  major  of  the  regiment 
of  Nassau,  who  had  risen  from  the  ranks.  "Sir,"  said  the 
veteran,  "I  have  received  a  great  many  blows;  I  have 
given  a  great  many,  and  all  to  my  advantage."  ^ 

The  spirit  of  reform  was  in  the  air,  and  ardent  young 
officers  would  let  nothing  pass  untried.  The  Count  of 
Segur  tells  a  story  of  such  an  one ;  and  although  no  name 
be  given,  he  seems  to  point  to  the  brother-in-law  of  La- 
fayette, the  brave  Viscount  of  Noailles. 

"One  morning,"  says  Segur,  "I  saw  a  young  man  of 
one  of  the  first  families  of  the  court  enter  my  bedroom. 
I  had  been  his  friend  from  childhood.  He  had  long  hated 
study,  and  thought  only  of  pleasure,  play,  and  women. 
But  recently  he  had  been  seized  with  military  ardor,  and 
dreamed  but  of  arms,  horses,  school  of  theory,  exercises, 
and  German  discipline. 

"  As  he  came  into  my  room,  he  looked  profoundly  seri- 
ous ;  he  begged  me  to  send  away  my  valet.  When  we 
were  alone:  'What  is  the  meaning,  my  dear  Viscount,' 
said  I,  'of  so  early  a  visit  and  so  grave  a  beginning?  Is 
it  some  new  affair  of  honor  or  of  love?  ' 

"'By  no  means,'  said  he,  'but  it  is  on  account  of  a 
very  important  matter,  and  of  an  experiment  that  I  have 
absolutely  resolved  to  make.  It  will  undoubtedly  seem 
very  strange  to  you ;  but  it  is  necessary  in  order  to  en- 

1  S^gur,  i.  80.  Mercier,  vii.  212.  Besenval,  ii.  19.  AUoiiville. 
Mem.  sec.  84.  Montbarey,  i.  311.  Flogging  in  some  form  and  Ger- 
man ways  in  general  seem  to  have  been  introduced  into  the  French 
army  as  early  as  Choiseul's  time,  and  more  or  less  practiced  through 
the  reign  of  Louis  XVI.  ;  but  tlie  great  discontent  appears  to  date 
from  the  more  rigorous  application  of  such  methods  by  Saint-Ger- 
main.     Montbarey.     Dumouriez,  i.  370  (liv.  ii.  ch.  iii.). 


94      THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

lighten  me  on  the  great  subject  we  are  all  discussing;  we 
can  judge  well  only  of  what  we  have  ourselves  undergone. 
When  I  tell  you  my  plan  you  will  feel  at  once  that  I  could 
intrust  it  only  to  my  best  friend,  and  that  none  but  he 
can  help  me  to  execute  it.  In  a  word,  here  is  the  case : 
I  want  to  know  positively  what  effect  strokes  with  the  flat 
of  the  sword  may  have  on  a  strong,  courageous,  well- 
balanced  man,  and  how  far  his  obstinacy  could  bear  this 
punishment  without  weakening.  So  I  beg  you  to  lay  on 
until  I  say  "Enough."' 

"Bursting  out  laughing  at  this  speech,  I  did  all  I  could 
to  turn  him  aside  from  his  strange  plan,  and  to  convince 
him  of  the  folly  of  his  proposal ;  but  it  was  useless.  He 
insisted,  begged  and  conjured  me  to  do  him  this  pleasure, 
with  as  many  entreaties  as  if  it  had  been  a  question  of 
getting  me  to  render  him  some  great  service. 

"At  last  I  consented  and  resolved  to  punish  his  fancy  by 
giving  him  his  money's  worth.  So  I  set  to  work;  but,  to 
my  great  astonishment,  the  sufferer,  coldly  meditating  on 
the  effect  of  each  blow,  and  collecting  all  his  courage  to 
support  it,  spoke  not  a  word  and  constrained  himself  to 
appear  unmoved ;  so  that  it  was  only  after  letting  me  re- 
peat the  experiment  a  score  of  times  that  he  said :  'Friend, 
it  is  enough.  I  am  contented;  and  I  now  understand 
that  this  must  be  an  efficacious  method  of  conquering 
many  faults.' 

"I  thought  all  was  over;  and  up  to  that  point  the 
scene  had  seemed  to  me  simply  comic ;  but  just  as  I  was 
about  to  ring  for  my  valet  to  dress  me,  the  Viscount,  sud- 
denly stopping  me,  said:  'One  moment,  please;  all  is  not 
finished ;  it  is  well  that  you  should  make  this  experiment, 
too.' 

"I  assured  him  that  I  had  no  desire  to  do  so,  and  that 
it  would  by  no  means  change  my  opinion,  which  was  en- 
tirely adverse  to  an  innovation  so  opposed  to  the  French 
character. 


THE   ARMY. 


95 


"  *Very  well,'  answered  he,  'but  I  ask  it  not  for  your 
sake  but  for  mine.  I  know  you ;  although  you  are  a  per- 
fect friend,  you  are  very  lively,  a  little  fond  of  poking 
fun,  and  you  would  perhaps  make  a  very  amusing  story 
of  what  has  just  happened  between  us,  at  my  expense, 
among  your  ladies. ' 

"  'But  is  not  my  word  enough  for  you?  '  I  rejoined. 

"  'Yes,'  said  he,  'in  any  more  serious  matter;  but  any- 
way, if  I  am  only  afraid  of  an  indiscretion,  that  fear  is 
too  much.  And  so,  in  the  name  of  friendship,  I  beg  you, 
set  me  completely  at  ease  on  that  point  by  taking  back 
what  you  have  been  kind  enough  to  lend  me  so  gracefully. 
Moreover,  I  repeat  it,  believe  me,  you  will  profit  by  it 
and  be  glad  to  have  judged  for  yourself  this  new  method 
that  is  so  much  discussed.' 

"Overcome  by  his  prayers,  I  let  him  take  the  fatal 
weapon;  but  after  he  had  given  me  the  first  stroke,  far 
from  imitating  his  obstinate  endurance,  I  quickly  called 
out  that  it  was  enough,  and  that  I  considered  myself  suffi- 
ciently enlightened  on  this  grave  question.  Thus  ended 
this  mad  scene ;  we  embraced  at  parting ;  and  in  spite  of 
my  desire  to  tell  the  story,  I  kept  his  secret  as  long  as  he 
pleased."^ 

The  discipline  of  the  French  army,  like  that  of  other 
bodies,  military  and  civil,  depended  much  less  on  regula- 
tions than  on  the  individual  character  of  the  men  in  com- 
mand for  the  time  being.  France  was  engaged  in  but  one 
war  during  the  reign  of  Louis  XVI.,  and  in  that  war  the 
land  forces  were  occupied  only  in  America.  "  The  French 
discipline  is  such,"  writes  Lafayette  to  Washington  from 
Newport,  "that  chickens  and  pigs  walk  between  the  lines 
without  being  disturbed,  and  that  there  is  in  the  camp  a 
cornfield  of  which  not  one  leaf  has  been  touched."  And 
Rochambeau  tells  with  honest  pride  of  apples  hanging  on 
1  S(5gur,  i.  &4. 


d6  THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

the  trees  which  shaded  the  soldier's  tents.  "The  disci- 
pline of  the  French  army,"  he  says,  "has  always  followed 
it  in  all  its  campaigns.  It  was  due  to  the  zeal  of  the  gen- 
erals, of  the  superior  and  regimental  officers,  and  espe- 
cially to  the  good  spirit  of  the  soldier,  which  never  failed." 
But  Rochambeau  was  a  working  general,  and  Lafayette 
had  done  his  best  in  France  that,  as  far  as  was  possible, 
the  French  commander  in  America  should  have  working 
officers  under  him.  Neither  in  war  nor  in  peace  have  the 
French  always  been  famous  for  their  discipline ;  and  the 
discontent  which  had  been  caused  by  the  changes  above 
mentioned  had  not  tended  to  strengthen  it  in  the  closing 
years  of  the  monarchy.  "Whatever  idea  I  may  have 
formed  of  the  want  of  discipline  and  of  the  anarchy  which 
reigned  among  the  troops,"  says  Besenval,  "it  was  far 
below  what  I  found  when  I  saw  them  close,"  and  circum- 
stances confirm  the  testimony  of  this  not  over-trustworthy 
witness.  1 

It  was  in  the  latter  part  of  the  previous  reign  that  the 
adventure  of  the  Count  of  Brehan  had  taken  place ;  but 
the  story  is  too  characteristic  to  be  omitted,  and  the  spirit 
which  it  showed  continued  to  exist  down  to  the  very  end 
of  the  old  monarchy. 

The  Count  of  Brehan,  after  serving  with  distinction  in 
the  Seven  Years'  War,  had  retired  from  the  army,  and 
devoted  his  time  to  society  and  the  fine  arts.  He  was 
called  to  Versailles  one  day  by  the  Duke  of  Aiguillon, 
prime  minister  to  Louis  XV.,  his  friend  and  cousin.  "I 
have  named  you  to  the  king,"  said  the  duke,  "as  the  only 
man  who  would  be  able  to  bring  the  Dauphiny  regiment 
into  a  state  of  discipline.  The  line  officers,  by  their  in- 
subordinate behavior,  have  driven  away  several  colonels 
in  succession.  If  I  were  offering  you  a  favor,  you  might 
refuse ;  but  this  is  an  act  of  duty,  and  I  have  assured  the 
king  that  you  would  undertake  it." 

1  Washington,  vii.  518.  Rochambeau,  i.  255,  314.  Fersen,  i.  39, 
57.     Besenval,  ii.  36. 


THE   ARMY.  97 

"You  do  me  justice,"  answered  Brehan.  "I  will  take 
the  command  of  the  regiment,  but  I  must  make  three  con- 
ditions. I  must  have  unlimited  power  to  reward  and 
punish ;  I  must  be  pardoned  if  I  overstep  the  regulations ; 
and  if  I  succeed  in  bringing  the  regiment  into  good  con- 
dition, I  am  not  to  be  obliged  to  keep  it  for  more  than 
a  year." 

His  conditions  granted,  Brehan  set  out  for  Marseilles, 
where  the  regiment  was  quartered.  On  his  arrival  in  that 
city,  he  put  up  at  a  small  and  inconspicuous  inn,  and, 
dressed  as  a  civilian,  made  his  way  on  foot  to  a  coffee- 
house, which  was  said  to  be  a, favorite  lounging-place  of 
the  officers  of  the  Dauphiny  regiment.  Taking  a  seat,  he 
listened  to  the  conversation  going  on  about  him,  and  soon 
made  out  that  the  insubordinate  subalterns  were  talking: 
about  their  new  colonel,  and  of  the  fine  tricks  they  would 
play  him  on  his  arrival.  Picking  out  two  young  officers 
who  were  making  themselves  particularly  conspicuous,  he 
interrupted  their  conversation. 

"You  do  not  know,"  he  says,  "the  man  whom  you 
want  to  drive  away.  I  advise  you  to  mind  what  you  do, 
or  you  may  get  into  a  scrape." 

"Who  is  this  jackanapes  that  dares  to  give  us  advice?" 

"A  man  who  will  not  stand  any  rudeness,  and  who  de- 
mands satisfaction  I  "  cries  Brehan,  unbuttoning  his  civil- 
ian's coat  and  showing  his  military  order  of  Saint  Louis. 

So  he  goes  out  with  the  young  fellows,  and  all  the  way 
to  the  place  where  they  are  to  fight,  he  chaffs  and  badgers 
them.  This  puts  them  more  and  more  out  of  temper,  so 
that  when  they  reach  the  ground  they  are  very  much  ex- 
cited, while  he  is  perfectly  cool.  He  wounds  them  one 
after  the  other ;  then,  turning  to  the  witnesses :  "  Gentle- 
men," says  he,  "I  believe  I  have  done  enough,  for  a  man 
who  has  been  traveling  night  and  day  all  the  way  from 
Paris.  If  anybody  wants  any  more,  lie  can  easily  find  me. 
I  am  not  one  of  the  people  who  get  out  of  the  way." 


98      THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

Thereupon  lie  leaves  them,  goes  back  to  his  inn,  puts  on 
his  uniform,  calls  on  the  general  commanding  the  garri- 
son, and  sends  orders  to  the  officers  of  the  Dauphiny  reg- 
iment to  come  and  see  him.  These  presently  arrive,  and 
are  thorouglily  astonished  when  they  recognize  the  man 
whom  they  met  in  the  coffee-house,  and  who  has  just 
wounded  two  of  their  comrades.  But  Brehan  pretends 
not  to  know  any  of  them,  speaks  to  all  kindly,  tells  them 
of  the  severe  orders  that  he  bears  in  case  of  insubordina- 
tion, and  expresses  the  hope  and  conviction  that  there 
will  be  no  trouble.  He  then  asks  if  all  the  officers  of  the 
regiment  are  present.  Tkey  answer  that  two  gentlemen 
are  ill.  "I  will  go  to  see  them,"  says  the  new  colonel, 
"and  make  sure  that  they  are  well  taken  care  of."  He 
does  in  fact  visit  his  late  adversaries,  and  finds  them  in 
great  trepidation.  They  try  to  make  excuses,  but  Brehan 
stops  them.  "  I  do  not  want  to  know  about  anything  that 
happened  before  I  took  command,"  he  says,  "and  I  am 
quite  sure  that  henceforth  I  shall  have  only  a  good  report 
to  make  to  the  king  of  all  the  officers  of  my  regiment, 
with  whom  I  hope  to  live  on  the  best  of  terms." 

By  this  firm  and  conciliatory  conduct,  the  Count  of 
Brehan  inspired  the  Dauphiny  regiment  with  respect  and 
affection.  He  restored  its  discipline  and  left  it  when  his 
service  was  over,  much  regretted  by  all  its  officers.^ 

The  lieutenants  of  the  French  army  were  united  in 
an  association  called  the  Calotte.  The  legitimate  object 
of  this  society  was  to  lick  young  officers  into  shape,  by 
obliging  them  to  conform  to  the  rules  of  politeness  and 
proper  behavior,  as  understood  by  their  class.  For  this 
purpose  the  senior  lieutenant  of  each  regiment  was  the 
chief  of  the  regimental  club,  and  there  was  a  general  chief 
for  the  whole  army.  Offenses  against  good  manners, 
faults  of  meanness,  or  oddity  of  behavior,  were  discour- 
1  AUonville,  i.  162. 


THE  ARMY.  99 

aged  by  admonitions,  given  privately  by  the  chief,  or 
publicly  in  the  convivial  meetings  of  the  club.  Moral 
pressure  might  be  carried  so  far  in  an  aggravated  case, 
as  to  cause  the  culprit  to  resign  his  commission.  The 
society  in  fact  represented  an  organized  professional 
spirit;  and  although  not  recognized  by  the  regulations, 
was  favored  by  the  superior  officers.^ 

When  discipline  was  relaxed,  the  Calotte  assumed  too 
great  powers.  Not  content  with  moral  means,  it  under- 
took to  enforce  its  decrees  by  physical  ones ;  and  it  ex- 
tended its  jurisdiction  far  above  the  rank  of  lieutenant. 

At  the  outbreak  of  the  war  between  France  and  Eng- 
land in  1778,  two  camps  were  formed  in  Normandy  and 
Brittany  for  the  purpose  of  training  the  army,  and  per- 
haps with  some  intention  of  making  a  descent  on  the 
English  coast.  The  young  French  officers  swarmed  to 
these  camps  and  divided  their  time  between  drill  and 
pleasure.  On  one  occasion,  seats  had  been  reserved  on  a 
hill  for  some  Breton  ladies,  who  were  to  see  the  manoeuvres. 
Two  colonels,  escorting  two  ladies  of  the  court  who  had 
recently  arrived  from  Paris,  undertook  to  appropriate  the 
chairs  for  their  companions.  A  squabble  such  as  is  com- 
mon on  such  occasions  was  the  result. 

The  Count  of  Segur,  above  mentioned,  was  acting  as 
aide-de-camp  to  the  commanding  general.  A  few  days 
after  the  quarrel  about  the  chairs,  just  as  he  was  going 
to  begin  a  game  of  prisoners'  base,  two  officers  who  were 
his  friends  informed  him  privately  that  the  Calotte  had 
ordered  the  two  colonels  who  had  given  offense  on  that 
occasion  to  be  publicly  tossed  in  blankets  and  that  the 
sentence  was  about  to  be  carried  out.  Segur,  to  gain 
time,  ordered  the  drummers  to  beat  an  alarm.     The  game 

1  Calotte  =  scull  cap,  here  fool's-cap.  Concerning  this  society,  see 
a  series  of  feuilletons  in  the  Moniteur  Universel,  Nov.  25th  to  30th, 
1864  by  Gen.  Anibcrt  ;  also  Enc//dopcdie  mc'thodique,  Art  militaire. 
Militaire,  iv.  101-103  (article  Calotte)  ;  S^gur,  i.  132. 


100     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

was  broken  up,  every  officer  ran  to  his  colors,  and  the 
aide-de-camp  hastened  to  explain  the  matter  to  the  aston- 
ished general.  The  proposed  punishment  was  deferred 
and  finally  prevented ;  but  the  escape  from  a  scandalous 
breach  of  discipline  had  been  a  narrow  one. 

As  the  Revolution  drew  nearer,  its  spirit  became  evi- 
dent in  the  army.  The  Count  of  Guibert,  the  most  tal- 
ented and  influential  member  of  the  Board  of  War  in 
1788,  was  the  object  of  satire  and  epigram.  The  younger 
officers  conspired  to  spoil  the  success  of  his  manoeuvres. 
The  experiments  that  had  been  tried,  the  frequent  changes 
in  the  regulations,  had  unsettled  their  ideas.  In  their 
reaction  against  the  disagreeable  rigor  of  German  disci- 
pline, they  protested  that  English  officers  alone,  and  not 
the  machine-like  soldiers  of  a  despot,  were  the  models  for 
freemen.  The  common  soldiers  caught  the  spirit  of  insub- 
ordination from  those  who  commanded  them.  Especially, 
the  large  regiment  of  French  Guards,  a  highly  privileged 
body,  permanently  quartered  in  Paris,  was  infected  with 
the  spirit  of  revolt.  Its  men  were  conspicuous  in  the 
early  troubles  of  the  Revolution,  acting  on  the  side  of  the 
mob.^ 

The  militia  of  old  France  does  not  call  for  a  long  notice. 
It  consisted  of  from  sixty  to  eighty  thousand  men,  whose 
chief  duty  was  in  garrison  in  time  of  war,  and  who  during 
peace  were  not  kept  constantly  together,  but  asembled 
from  time  to  time  for  drill.  As  the  term  of  service  was 
six  years,  the  number  of  men  drawn  did  not  exceed  fifteen 
thousand  annually.  This  was  surely  no  great  drain  on 
a  population  of  twenty-six  millions.  Militia  duty  was 
greatly  hated,  however.  This  appears  to  have  been  be- 
cause men  did  not  volunteer  for  it,  but  were  drafted ;  and 
because  many  persons  were  exempted  from  the  draft. 
This  immunity  covered  not  only  the  sons  of  aged  parents 
who  were  dependent  on  them  for  support,  but  privileged 
1  Chdrest,  i.  552.     Miot  de  M^lito,  i.  3. 


THE   ARMY.  101 

persons  of  all  sorts,  from  apothecaries  to  advocates,  gen- 
tlemen and  their  servants  and  game-keepers.  The  bur- 
den was  thus  thrown  entirely  on  the  poorer  peasantry.^ 

The  navy  in  the  time  of  Louis  XVI.  reached  a  high 
state  of  efficiency.  The  war  of  1778  to  1783  was  in  great 
measure  a  naval  war,  and  although  the  French  and  their 
allies  were  worsted  in  some  of  the  principal  actions,  the 
general  result  may  be  held  to  have  been  favorable  to  them. 
The  navy  at  the  outbreak  of  hostilities  consisted  of  about 
seventy  ships  of  the  line,  and  as  many  frigates  and  large 
corvettes,  with  a  hundred  smaller  vessels.  These  ships 
were  built  on  admirable  models,  for  the  French  marine 
architects  were  well-trained  and  skillful ;  but  the  materials 
and  the  construction  were  not  equal  in  excellence  to  the 
design.  The  invention  of  coppering  the  ships'  bottoms, 
and  thus  adding  to  their  speed,  although  generally  pracr 
ticed  in  England,  had  been  applied  in  France  only  to  the 
smaller  part  of  the  navy.  The  French,  however,  had  an 
advantage  over  the  English  in  the  fact  that  ships  of  the 
same  nominal  class  were  in  reality  larger  and  broader  of 
beam  among  the  former  than  among  the  latter,  so  that  the 
French  were  sometimes  able  to  fight  their  lower  batteries 
in  rough  water,  when  the  English  had  to  keep  their  lower 
ports  closed. 

The  naval  officers  of  France  were  almost  all  noblemen, 
and  received  a  careful  professional  training.  Yet  the 
practice  of  transferring  officers  of  high  rank  from  the 
army  to  the  navy  had  not  been  completely  abandoned. 
Thus  d'Estaing,  who  commanded  with  little  distinction 
on  the  North  American  coast  in  1778,  was  no  sailor,  but 
a  lieutenant-general,  artificially  turned  into  a  vice-admi- 
ral. Such  cases,  however,  were  not  common,  and  in  gen- 
eral the  French  commanders  erred  rather  by  adhering  too 
closely  to  naval  rule,  than  by  want  of  professional  train- 
ing. In  the  navy,  as  elsewhere,  no  great  original  talent 
1  Broc,  i.  117  ;  Babeaii,  Le  Village,  259. 


102  THE  EVE  OF  THE  FKENCH   KEVOLUTION. 

was  developed  during  tliis  reign,  which  was  a  time  of  ex- 
pectation rather  than  of  action. 

The  men,  like  the  officers,  were  good  and  well-trained, 
except  when  the  lack  of  sailors  obliged  the  government  to 
employ  soldiers  on  shipboard.  It  is  noticeable  that  the 
seamen  bore  the  rope's  end  with  equanimity,  although  the 
landsmen  were  so  much  offended  at  flogging  with  the  flat 
of  the  sword.  Nor  do  I  find  any  complaint  of  want  of 
discipline  at  sea. 

The  administration  of  naval  affairs  was  less  satisfactory 
than  the  ships  or  the  crews.  The  magazines  were  not  well 
provided ;  and  the  stores  were  probably  bad,  for  the  fleets 
were  subject  to  epidemics.^ 

In  general  the  navy  appears  to  have  suffered  less  than 
the  army  from  the  fermentation  of  the  public  inind. 
Marine  affairs  must  always  remain  the  concern  of  a  spe- 
cial class  of  men,  cut  off  by  absorbing  occupations  from 
the  interests  and  sympathies  of  the  rest  of  mankind. 

1  Chabaud- Arnault,  189,  196,  214.  Charnock,  iii.  222,  282. 
S^gur,  i.  138.     Chevalier. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 
THE  COURTS   OF  LAW. 

While  the  greater  and  more  conspicuous  part  of  the 
French  nobility  lived  by  the  sword,  a  highly  respectable 
portion  of  the  order  wore  the  judicial  gown.  Prominent 
in  French  affairs  in  the  eighteenth  century  we  find  the 
Parliaments,  a  branch  of  the  old  feudal  courts  of  the 
kings  of  France,  retaining  the  function  of  high  courts  of 
justice,  and  playing,  moreover,  a  certain  political  part. 
In  the  Parliament  of  Paris,  on  solemn  occasions,  sat  those 
few  members  of  the  highest  nobility  who  held  the  title  of 
Peers  of  France.  With  these  came  the  legal  hierarchy 
of  First  President,  presidents  a  mortier  and  counselors, 
numbering  about  two  hundred.  The  members  were  dis- 
tributed, for  the  purposes  of  ordinary  business,  among 
several  courts,  the  Great  Chamber,  five  courts  of  Inquest, 
two  courts  of  Petitions,  etc.^  The  Parliament  of  Paris 
possessed  original  and  appellate  jurisdiction  over  a  large 
part  of  central  France,  —  too  large  a  part  for  the  conven- 
ience of  suitors,  —  but  there  were  twelve  provincial  par- 
liaments set  over  other  portions  of  the  kingdom.  The 
members  of  these  courts,  and  of  several  other  tribunals  of 
inferior  jurisdiction,  formed  the  magistracy,  a  body  of 
great  dignity  and  importance. 

We  have  seen  that  the  church  possessed  certain  polit- 
ical rights ;  that  it  held  assemblies  and  controlled  taxes. 
The  political  powers  of  the  Parliaments  were  more  limited, 
amounting  to  little  more  than  the  right  of  solemn  remon- 
strance. Under  a  strong  monarch,  like  Louis  XIV.,  this 
1  Grand'  Chambre,  Cour  des  Enquetes,  Cour  des  Requetes. 


104  THE   EVE   OF   THE   FRENCH   REVOLUTION. 

power  remained  dormant;  under   weak   kings,   like   Ms 
successors,  it  became  important. 

The  method  of  passing  a  law  in  the  French  monarchy 
was  this.  The  king,  in  one  of  his  councils,  issued  an 
edict,  and  sent  it  to  the  Parliament  of  Paris,  or  to  such 
other  Parliaments  as  it  might  concern,  for  registration. 
If  the  Parliament  accepted  the  edict,  the  latter  was  entered 
in  its  books,  and  immediately  promulgated  as  law.  If  the 
Parliament  did  not  approve,  and  was  willing  to  enter  on 
a  contest  with  the  king  and  his  advisers,  it  refused  to  reg- 
ister. In  that  case  the  king  might  recede,  or  he  might 
force  the  registration.  This  was  done  by  means  of  what 
was  called  a  bed  of  justice.  His  Majesty,  sitting  on  a 
throne  (whence  the  name  of  the  ceremony),  and  surrounded 
by  his  officers  of  state,  personally  commanded  the  Parlia- 
ment to  register,  and  the  Parliament  was  legally  bound  to 
comply.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  it  did  sometimes  continue 
to  remonstrate;  it  sometimes  adjourned,  or  ceased  to  ad- 
minister justice,  by  way  of  protest ;  but  such  a  course  was 
looked  on  as  illegal,  and  severe  measures  on  the  part  of 
the  king  and  his  counselors  —  the  court,  as  the  phrase 
went,  —  were  to  be  expected.  These  measures  might  take 
the  form  of  imprisonment  of  recalcitrant  judges,  or  of 
exile  of  the  Parliament  in  a  body.  Sometimes  new  courts 
of  justice,  more  closely  dependent  on  the  king's  pleasure, 
were  temporarily  established.  Such  were  the  Eoyal 
Chamber  and  the  famous  Maupeou  Parliament  under 
Louis  XV.,  the  Plenary  Court  of  Louis  XVI.  Had  these 
monarchs  been  strong  men,  the  new  courts  would  undoubt- 
edly have  superseded  the  old  Parliaments  altogether ;  as 
it  was,  they  led  only  to  confusion  and  uncertainty.^ 

Throuo'hout  the  reiorn  of  Louis  XV.    the  Parliament  of 

Paris  was  fighting  against  the    church,  while  the    court 

repeatedly  changed  sides,  but  oftener  inclined  to  that  of 

the  clergy.     The  controversy  was  theological  in  its  origin, 

1  Du  Boys,  Hist,  du  droit  criminel  de  la  France,  ii.  225,  239. 


THE   COURTS   OF  LAW.  105 

the  magistrates  being  Janseriist  in  their  proclivities, 
while  the  Church  of  France  was  largely  controlled  by  the 
Molinist,  or  Jesuit  party.  The  contest  was  long  and 
doubtful,  neither  side  obtaining  a  full  victory.  It  was 
the  fashion  in  the  Philosophic  party  to  represent  the 
whole  matter  as  a  miserable  squabble.  Yet,  apart  from 
the  importance  of  the  original  controversy,  which  touched 
the  mighty  but  insoluble  questions  of  predestination  and 
free-will,  the  quarrel  had  a  true  interest  for  patriotic 
Frenchmen.  The  Roman  Church  was  contending  for  the 
absolute  and  unlimited  control  of  religious  matters;  the 
Parliament  for  the  supremacy  of  law  in  the  state. 

In  the  reign  of  Louis  XYl.  the  Parliament  was  prin- 
cipally engaged  in  struggles  of  another  character.  The 
magistrates  were  members  of  a  highly  privileged  class. 
Their  battle  was  arrayed  for  vested  rights  against  re- 
forms. From  the  time  of  Turgot  to  that  of  Lomenie  de 
Brienne  and  the  Notables,  the  Parliament  of  Paris,  some- 
times in  sympathy  with  the  nation,  sometimes  against  it, 
was  vigorously  resisting  innovations.  Yet  so  great  was 
the  irritation  then  felt  against  the  royal  court  that  the 
Parliament  generally  gained  a  temporary  popularity  by 
its  course  of  opposition. 

The  courts  of  justice,  and  especially  the  Parliaments, 
were  controlled  by  men  who  had  inherited  or  bought  their 
places.^  This,  while  offering  no  guarantee  of  capacity, 
assured  the  independence  of  the  judges.  As  the  places 
were  looked  on  as  property,  they  were  commonly  trans- 
mitted from  father  to  son,  and  became  the  basis  of  that 
nobility  of  the  gown  which  played  a  large  part  in  French 

1  Under  Louis  XIV.  the  price  of  a  place  of  president  a  mortier 
was  fixed  at  350,000  livres,  that  of  a  maitre  des  requetes  at  150,000 
livres,  that  of  a  counselor  at  90,000  to  100,000  livres.  The  place  of 
First  President  was  not  venal,  but  held  by  appointment.  Martin, 
xiii.  53  and  n.  The  general  subject  of  the  venality  of  offices  is  con- 
sidered in  the  chapter  on  Taxation. 


106     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

affairs.  The  owner  of  a  judicial  place  was  obliged  to  pass 
an  examination  in  law,  before  he  could  assume  its  duties 
and  emoluments.  This  examination  differed  in  severity 
at  different  times  and  in  the  different  Parliaments.  In 
the  latter  part  of  the  eighteenth  century  it  would  aj^pear 
to  have  been  very  easy  at  Paris,  but  harder  in  some  of  the 
provinces.  The  Parliaments,  in  any  case,  retained  control 
over  admission  to  their  own  bodies.  Although  they  could 
not  nominate,  they  could  refuse  certificates  of  capacity 
and  morality.  They  insisted  that  none  but  counselors 
should  be  admitted  to  the  higher  places,  and  that  candi- 
dates should  be  men  of  means,  "so  that,  in  a  condition 
where  honor  should  be  the  only  guide,  they  might  be  able 
to  live  independently  of  the  profits  accessory  to  their 
labors,  which  should  never  have  any  influence."  This 
caution  was  especially  necessary  as  the  judges  were  paid 
in  great  measure  by  the  fees,  or  costs,  which  under  the 
quaint  name  of  spices  were  borne  by  the  parties.  Origi- 
nally these  fees  had  in  fact  consisted  of  sugar  plums,  not 
more  than  could  be  eaten  in  a  day,  but  subsequently  they 
had  been  commuted  and  increased  until  they  amounted  to 
considerable  sums.^ 

By  requiring  pecuniary  independence  and  social  posi- 
tion, together  with  a  certain  amount  of  learning  and  of 
2)ersonal  character,  the  tone  of  the  upper  courts  was  kept 
good,  the  magistrates  being  generally  among  the  most 
learned,  solid,  and  respectable  men  in  France.  They 
seem  also  to  have  been  hard-working  and  honest,  although 
prejudiced  in  favor  of  their  own  privileged  class.  As  the 
Revolution  drew  near,  they  fell  into  the  common  weakness 
of  their  age  and  country,  the  worship  of  public  opinion, 
and  the  love  of  popularity.  We  find  the  Parliament  of 
Paris  undergoing,  and  even  courting,  the  applause  of  the 
mob  in  its  own  halls  of  justice.  Like  the  great  Assem- 
bly which  was  soon  to  have  in  its  hands  the  destinies  of 
1  Bastard  d'Estaug,  i.  122,  245  ;  Du  Boys,  535. 


THE   COURTS   OF  LAW.  107 

France,  the  most  dignified  court  of  justice  in  the  hmd 
failed  to  perceive  that  the  deliberative  body  that  allows 
itseK  to  be  influenced  or  even  interrupted  by  spectators, 
will  soon,  and  deservedly,  lose  respect  and  power. ^ 

When  we  pass  from  the  consideration  of  the  political 
functions  of  the  Parliaments,  and  of  their  composition, 
to  that  of  the  ordinary  administration  of  justice,  we  are 
struck  by  the  diversity  of  the  law  in  civil  matters,  and  by 
its  severity  in  criminal  affairs.  The  kingdom  of  France, 
as  it  existed  in  the  eighteenth  century,  was  made  up  of 
many  provinces  and  cities,  various  in  their  history.  Each 
one  had  its  local  customs  and  privileges.  The  complica- 
tion of  rules  of  procedure  and  rights  of  property  was 
ahnost  infinite.  The  body  of  the  law  was  derived  from 
sources  of  two  distinct  kinds,  from  feudal  custom  and 
from  Koman  jurisprudence.  The  customs  which  arose, 
or  were  first  noted,  in  the  Middle  Ages,  originating  as 
they  did  in  the  manners  of  barbarian  tribes,  or  in  the  exi- 
gencies of  a  rude  state  of  society,  were  products  of  a  less 
civilized  condition  of  the  human  mind  than  the  laws  of 
Rome.  From  a  very  early  period,  therefore,  the  most 
intelligent  and  educated  lawyers  all  over  Europe  were 
struggling,  more  or  less  consciously,  to  bring  customary 
feudal  law  into  conformity  with  Roman  ideas.  These 
legists  recognized  that  in  many  matters  the  custom  had 
definitely  fixed  the  law ;  but  whenever  a  doubtful  ques- 
tion arose,  they  looked  for  guidance  to  the  more  perfect 
system.  "The  Roman  law,"  they  said,  "is  observed 
everywhere,  not  by  reason  of  its  authority,  but  by  the 
authority  of  reason."  This  idea  was  peculiarly  congenial 
to  the  tone  of  thought  current  in  the  eighteenth  century. 

1  De  Tocqueville  praises  the  independence  of  the  old  magistrates, 
who  could  neither  be  degraded  nor  promoted  by  the  government, 
CEuvres,  iv.  171  (Ancien  Regime,  ch.  xi.).  ISIontesquieu,  iii.  217  {Esp. 
des  lois,  liv.  v.  ch.  xix.).  Mirabeau,  UAmi  des  hommes,  212,  219. 
Bastard  d'Estang,  ii.  Gil,  G21.    Grimm,  xi.  314. 


108     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

Even  in  England  the  common  and  customary  law  was 
enlarged  at  that  time  and  adapted  to  new  conditions  in 
accordance  with  Latin  principles,  by  the  genius  of  Lord 
Mansfield  and  other  eminent  lawyers.  In  France  the 
process  began  earlier  and  lasted  longer.  Domat,  d' Agues- 
seau,  and  Pothier  were  but  the  successors  of  a  long  line 
of  jurists.  By  the  time  of  Louis  XVI.,  some  uniformity 
of  principle  had  been  introduced ;  but  everywhere  feudal 
irregularity  still  worried  the  minds  of  Philosophers  and 
vexed  the  temper  of  litigants.  The  courts  were  numer- 
ous and  the  jurisdiction  often  conflicting.  The  customs 
were  numberless,  hardly  the  same  for  any  two  lordships. 
To  the  subjects  of  Louis  XVI.,  believing  as  they  did  that 
there  was  a  uniform,  natural  law  of  justice  easily  discov- 
erable by  man,  this  state  of  things  seemed  anomalous  and 
absurd.  "ShaU  the  same  case  always  be  judged  differ- 
ently in  the  provinces  and  in  the  capital?  Must  the  same 
man  be  right  in  Brittany  and  wrong  in  Languedoc?  "  cries 
Voltaire.  And  the  inconvenience  arising  from  this  exces- 
sive variety  of  legal  rights,  together  with  the  vexatious 
nature  of  some  of  them,  did  more  perhaps  than  any  other 
single  cause  to  engender  in  the  men  of  that  time  their  too 
great  love  of  uniformity.^ 

It  has  been  said  that  the  judges  of  the  higher  courts 
were  generally  honest.  In  the  lower  courts,  and  espe- 
cially in  those  tribunals  which  still  depended  on  the  lords, 
oppression  and  injustice  appear  to  have  been  not  uncom- 
mon. The  bailiffs  who  presided  in  them  were  often  par- 
tial where  the  interests  of  the  lords  whose  salaries  they 
received  were  concerned.     And  even  when  we  come  to 

1  "  Servatur  ubique  jus  romanum,  non  ratione  imperii,  sed  rationis 
imperio."  Laferriere,  i.  82,  532.  See  Ibid.,  i.  553  n.,  for  a  list  of 
eighteen  courts  of  extraordinary  jurisdiction,  and  of  five  courts  of 
ordinary  jurisdiction,  viz.  ;  1,  Parlemens,  2,  Prdsidiaux,  3,  Baillis  et 
s^ndchaux  royaux,  4,  Prdvots  royaux,  5,  Juges  seigneuriaux.  Vol- 
taire, xxi.  419  {Louis  XV.),  Sorel,  i.  148. 


THE   COURTS   OF   LAW.  109 

the  practice  before  the  Parliaments,  the  American  reader 
will  sometimes  be  struck  with  astonishment  at  the  extent 
to  which  members  of  those  high  tribunals  were  allowed  by 
custom  to  be  influenced  by  the  private  and  personal  soli- 
citation of  parties.  The  whole  spirit  of  the  continental 
system  of  civil  and  criminal  law  is  here  at  variance  with 
tliat  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  system.  English  and  Ameri- 
can judges  are  like  umpires  in  a  conflict;  French  judges 
like  interested  persons  conducting  an  investigation.  The 
latter  method  is  perhaps  the  better  for  unraveling  intri- 
cate cases,  but  the  former  would  seem  to  expose  the  bench 
to  less  temptation.  A  judge  who  is  long  closeted  with 
each  of  the  contestants  alternately  must  find  it  harder  to 
keep  his  fingers  from  bribes  and  his  mind  from  prejudice 
than  a  judge  who  is  prevented  by  strict  professional  eti- 
quette from  seeing  either  party  except  in  the  full  glare  of 
the  court-room,  and  from  listening  to  any  argument  of 
counsel,  save  where  both  sides  are  represented.  Accu- 
sations of  bribery,  even  of  judges,  were  common  in  old 
France.  The  lower  officers  of  the  court  took  fees  openly. 
Thick  books,  under  the  name  of  memoir es^  were  pub- 
lished, with  the  avowed  intention  of  influencing  the  pub- 
lic and  the  courts  in  pending  cases. ^ 

One  judicial  abuse  especially  contrary  to  fair  dealing 
had  become  very  common.  Powerful  and  influential 
persons  could  have  their  cases  removed  from  the  tribunals 
in  which  they  were  begam,  and  tried  in  other  courts 
where  from  personal  influence  they  might  expect  a  more 
favorable  result.  It  was  not  only  the  royal  council 
that  could  draw  litigation  to  itself.  The  practice  was 
widespread.  By  a  writ  called  com?7iittimn.%  the  tribunal 
by  which  an  action  was  to  be  tried  could  be  changed. 

1  For  a  statement  that  influential  persons  went  unpunished  in 
criminal  matters  and  got  the  better  of  their  adversaries  in  civil 
matters  by  means  of  lettres  de  cachet,  and  for  instances,  see  Bos.  148; 
a  long  list  of  iniquitous  judgments,  Ibid.,  liK),  etc. 


110  THE   EVE   OF   THE   FRENCH   REVOLUTIOlSr. 

This  appears  to  have  been  a  frequent  cause  of  failure  of 
justice. 

As  for  the  criminal  proceedings  of  the  age,  there  was 
hardly  a  limit  to  their  cruelty.  Under  Louis  XV.  the 
prisons  were  filthy  dens,  crowded  and  un ventilated,  true 
fever-holes.  A  private  cell  ten  feet  square,  for  a  man 
awaiting  trial,  cost  sixty  francs  a  month.  Large  dogs 
were  trained  to  watch  the  prisoners  and  to  prevent  their 
escape.  Twice  a  year,  in  May  and  September,  the  more 
desperate  convicts  left  Paris  for  the  galleys.  They  made 
the  journey  chained  together  in  long  carts,  so  that  eight 
mounted  policemen  could  watch  a  hundred  and  twenty  of 
them.  The  galleys  at  Toulon  appear  to  have  been  less 
bad  than  the  prisons  in  Paris.  They  were  kept  clean 
and  well  -  aired,  and  the  prisoners  were  fairly  well  fed 
and  clothed ;  but  some  of  them  had  been  imprisoned  for 
forty,  fifty,  or  even  sixty  years.  They  were  allowed  to 
work  for  themselves  and  to  earn  a  little  money.  They 
were  divided  into  three  classes,  deserters,  smugglers,  and 
thieves,  distinguished  by  the  color  of  their  caps.^ 

Torture  was  regarded  as  a  regular  means  for  the  discov- 
ery of  crime.  It  was  administered  in  various  ways,  the 
forms  differing  from  province  to  province.  They  included 
the  application  of  fire  to  various  parts  of  the  body,  the 
distension  of  the  stomach  and  lungs  by  water  poured  into 
the  mouth,  thumbscrews,  the  rack,  the  boot.  These  were 
but  methods  of  investigation,  used  on  men  and  women 
whose  crime  was  not  proved.  They  might  be  repeated 
after  conviction  for  the  discovery  of  accomplices.  The 
greater  part  of  the  examination  of  accused  persons  was 
carried  on  in  private,  and  during  it  they  were  not  allowed 
counsel  for  their  defense.  They  were  confronted  but 
once  with  the  witnesses  against  them,  and  that  only  after 
those  witnesses  had  given  their  evidence  and  were  liable 
to  the  penalties  of  perjury  if  they  retracted  it.  Many 
1  Mercier,  iii.  265,  x.  151.    Howard,  Lazarettos^  54. 


THE   COURTS   OF   LAW.  Ill 

offenses  were  punishable  with  death.  Thieving  servants 
might  be  executed,  but  under  Louis  XVI.  public  feeling 
rightly  judged  the  punishment  too  severe  for  the  offense, 
so  that  masters  would  not  prosecute  nor  judges  condemn 
for  it.i 

Other  criminals  did  not  escape  so  easily.  A  most  bar- 
barous method  of  execution  was  in  use.  The  wheel  was 
set  up  in  the  principal  cities  of  France.  The  voice  of  the 
crier  was  heard  in  the  streets  as  he  peddled  copies  of  the 
sentence.  The  common  people  crowded  about  the  scaf- 
fold, and  the  rich  did  not  always  scorn  to  hire  windows 
overlooking  the  scene.  The  condemned  man  was  first 
etretched  upon  a  cross  and  struck  by  the  executioner 
eleven  times  with  an  iron  bar,  every  stroke  breaking  a 
bone.  The  poor  wretch  was  then  laid  on  his  back  on 
a  cart  wheel,  his  broken  bones  protruding  through  his 
flesh,  his  head  hanging,  his  brow  dripping  bloody  sweat, 
and  left  to  die.  A  priest  muttered  religious  consolation 
by  his  side.  By  such  sights  as  these  was  the  populace 
of  the  French  cities  trained  to  enjoy  the  far  less  inhu- 
man spectacle  of  the  guillotine. ^ 

It  was  not  until  the  middle  of  the  century  that  men's 
minds  were  fairly  turned  toward  the  reform  of  the  crim- 
inal law.     Yet  eminent  writers  had  long  pointed  out  the 

1  CouDsel  were  not  allowed  in  France  for  that  important  part  of  the 
proceedings  which  was  carried  on  in  secret.  Voltaire,  xlviii.  132.  In 
England,  at  that  time,  counsel  were  not  allowed  of  right  to  prisoners 
in  cases  of  felony  ;  but  judges  were  in  the  habit  of  straining  the  law 
to  admit  them.  Strictly  they  could  only  instruct  the  prisoner  in 
matters  of  law.  Blackstone  iv.  fol.  355  (ch.  27).  The  English  seem 
for  a  long  time  to  have  entertained  a  wholesome  distrust  of  confes- 
sions. Blackstone,  ubi  supra.  How  far  is  the  Continental  love  of  con- 
fessions derived  from  the  church;  and  how  far  is  the  love  of  the 
church  for  confessions  a  result  of  the  ever  present  busybody  in  hu- 
man nature  ?  ' 

2  Mercier,  iii.  267.  Howard  says  that  the  gaoler  at  Avignon  told 
him  that  he  had  seen  prisoners  under  torture  sweat  blood.  Lazaret* 
ios,  53. 


112     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

inutility  of  torture.  "  Torture -chambers  are  a  dangerous 
invention,  and  seem  to  make  trial  of  patience  rather  than 
of  truth,"  says  Montaigne;  but  he  thinks  them  the  least 
evil  that  human  weakness  has  invented  under  the  cir- 
cumstances. Montesquieu  advanced  a  step  farther.  He 
pointed  out  that  torture  was  not  necessary.  "We  see 
to-day  a  very  well  governed  nation  [the  English]  reject  it 
without  inconvenience."  .  .  .  "So  many  clever  people 
and  so  many  men  of  genius  have  written  against  this 
practice,"  he  continues,  "that  I  dare  not  speak  after 
them.  I  was  about  to  say  that  it  might  be  admissible 
under  despotic  governments,  where  all  that  inspires  fear 
forms  a  greater  part  of  the  administration ;  I  was  about 
to  say  that  slaves  among  the  Greeks  and  Romans,  —  but 
I  hear  the  voice  of  nature  crying  out  against  me."  Vol- 
taire attacked  the  practice  in  his  usual  vivacious  manner; 
but,  with  characteristic  prudence  suggested  that  torture 
might  still  be  applied  in  cases  of  regicide.^ 

Such  scattered  expressions  as  these  might  long  have 
remained  unfruitful.  But  in  1764  appeared  the  admir- 
able book  of  the  Milanese  Marquis  Beccaria,  and  about 
thirteen  years  later  the  Englishman  John  Howard  pub- 
lished his  first  book  on  the  State  of  the  Prisons.  Beccaria 
shared  the  ideas  of  the  Philosophers  on  most  subjects. 
Where  he  differed  from  them,  it  was  as  Rousseau  differed, 
in  the  direction  of 'socialism.  But  in  usefulness  to  man- 
kind few  of  them  can  compare  with  him.  From  him  does 
the  modern  world  derive  some  of  its  most  important  ideas 
concerning  the  treatment  of  crime.  Extreme,  like  most  of 
the  Philosophers  of  his  age ;  unable,  like  them,  to  recog- 
nize the  proper  limitations  of  his  theories,  he  has  yet 
transformed  the  thought  of  civilized  men  on  one  of  the 

1  Montaigne,  ii.  36  (liv.  ii.  ch.  v).  So  I  interpret  the  last  words  of 
the  chapter.  Montesquieu,  iii.  260  (Esprit  des  Lois,  hv.  vi.  ch. 
17).  Voltaire,  xxxii.  52  {Diet,  philos.  Question),  xxxii.  391  {Ibid., 
Torture). 


THE   COURTS   OF   LAW.  113 

most  momentous  subjects  witli  which  they  have  to  deal. 
So  great  is  the  change  wrought  in  a  hundred  years  by 
his  little  book,  that  it  is  hard  to  remember  as  we  read  it 
that  it  could  ever  have  been  thought  to  contain  novelties. 
''  The  end  of  punishment  ...  is  no  other  than  to  prevent 
the  criminal  from  doing  farther  injury  to  society,  and  to 
prevent  others  from  conunitting  the  like  offense."  "All 
trials  should  be  public."  "The  more  immediately  after 
tlie  commission  of  a  crime  the  punishment  is  inflicted,  the 
more  just  and  useful  it  will  be."  "Crimes  are  more 
effectually  prevented  by  the  certai/iti/  th^n  by  the  severity 
of  punishment."  These  are  the  commonplaces  of  modern 
criminal  legislation.  The  difficulty  lies  in  applying  them. 
In  the  eighteenth  century  their  enunciation  was  necessary. 
"The  torture  of  a  criminal  during  his  trial  is  a  cruelty 
consecrated  by  custom  in  ahnost  every  nation,"  says  Bec- 
caria.  Indeed  it  seems  to  have  been  legal  in  his  day  aU 
over  the  Continent,  although  restricted  in  Prussia  and 
obsolete  in  practice  in  Holland.  Beccaria  opposed  torture 
entirely,  on  broad  grounds.  As  to  torture  before  con- 
demnation he  holds  it  a  grievous  wrong  to  the  innocent, 
"for  in  the  eye  of  the  law,  every  man  is  innocent  whose 
crime  has  not  been  proved.  Besides,  it  is  confounding  all 
relations  to  expect  that  a  man  should  be  both  the  accuser 
and  the  accused,  and  that  pain  should  be  the  test  of  truth ; 
as  if  truth  resided  in  the  muscles  and  sinews  of  a  wretch 
in  torture.  By  this  method  the  robust  will  escape  and 
the  weak  will  be  condemned."  The  penalties  proposed 
by  Beccaria  are  generally  mild,  —  he  would  have  abol- 
ished that  of  death  altogether,  —  his  reliance  being  on 
certainty  and  not  on  severity  of  punishment.  ^ 

It  was  not  to  be  expected  that  Beccaria' s  book  should 
work  an  immediate  change  in  the  manners  of  Christen- 
dom.    The  criminal  law  remained  unaltered  at  first,  in 
theory  and  practice.     But  the  consciences  of  the  more 
^  Beccaria,  passim.     Lea,  Superstition  and  Force,  515. 


114     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

advanced  thinkers  were  affected.  In  1766,  at  Abbeville, 
a  young  man  named  La  Barre  was  convicted  of  standing 
and  wearing  his  hat  while  a  religious  procession  was  pass- 
ing, singing  blasphemous  songs,  speaking  blasphemous 
words,  and  making  blasphemous  gestures.  There  was 
much  popular  excitement  at  the  time  on  account  of  the 
mutilation  of  a  crucifix  standing  on  a  bridge  in  the  town, 
but  La  Barre  was  not  shown  to  have  been  concerned  in 
this  outrage.  The  judges  at  Abbeville  appear  to  have  laid 
themselves  open  to  the  accusation  of  personal  hostility  to 
him.  The  young  man,  having  been  tortured,  was  con- 
demned to  make  public  confession  with  a  rope  round  his 
neck,  before  the  church  of  Saint  Vulfran,  where  the  in- 
jured crucifix  had  been  placed,  to  have  his  tongue  cut 
out,  to  be  beheaded,  and  to  have  his  body  burned.  This 
outrageous  sentence  was  confirmed  by  the  Parliament  of 
Paris.  The  superstitious  king,  Louis  XY.,  would  not 
grant  a  pardon.  The  capital  sentence  was  executed,  but 
the  cutting  out  of  the  tongue  was  omitted,  the  executioner 
only  pretending  to  do  that  part  of  his  work.  La  Barre' s 
head  fell,  amid  the  applause  of  a  cruel  crowd  which  ad- 
mired the  skillful  stroke  of  the  headsman.  A  thrill  of 
indignation,  not  mimixed  with  fear,  ran  through  the  lib- 
eral party  in  France.  The  anger  and  grief  of  Voltaire 
were  loudly  expressed.  It  was  at  least  an  improvement 
on  the  state  of  public  feeling  in  former  generations  that 
such  severity  should  not  have  met  with  universal  acqui- 


escence.^ 


The  practice  of  torture  was  not  without  defenders. 
One  of  them  asked  what  could  be  done  to  find  stolen 
money  if  the  thief  refused  to  say  where  he  had  hidden  it. 
But  this  was  not  his  only  argument.  "The  accused  him- 
self," he  said,  "has  a  guarantee  in  torture,  which  makes 
him  a  judge  in  his  own  case,  so  that  he  becomes  able  to 

1  The  best  account  of  the  affair  of  La  Barre  which  I  have  met  is 
in  Desuoiresterres,  Voltaire  et  Eousseau,  465. 


THE   COURTS   OF   LAW.  115 

avoid  the  capital  punishment  attached  to  the  crime  of 
which  he  is  accused."  And  this  writer  confidently  asserts 
that  for  a  single  example  which  might  be  cited  in  two  or 
three  centuries  of  an  innocent  man  yielding  to  the  violence 
of  torture,  a  million  cases  of  rightful  punishment  could  be 
mentioned.^ 

Yet  the  march  of  progress  was  fairly  rapid  in  the  latter 
part  of  the  eighteenth  century.  In  the  jurisprudence 
of  that  age  a  distinction  was  made  between  preparatory 
torture,  which  was  administered  to  suspected  persons  to 
make  them  confess,  and  previous  torture,  which  was  in- 
flicted on  the  condemned,  previous  to  execution,  to  obtain 
the  accusation  of  accomplices.  The  former  of  these,  by 
far  the  greater  disgrace  to  civilization,  was  abolished  in 
France  on  the  24th  of  August,  1780 ;  the  latter  not  until 
1788,  and  then  only  provisionally.  Thus  was  one  of  the 
greatest  of  modern  reforms  accomplished  before  the  Eev- 
olution.  About  the  same  time  many  ordinances  were 
passed  for  the  amelioration  of  French  prisons.  They  were 
about  as  bad  as  those  of  other  countries,  and  that  was 
very  bad  indeed.^ 

The  courts  of  law  did  not  act  against  persons  alone. 
The  Parliament  of  Paris  was  in  the  habit  of  passing  con- 
demnation on  books  supposed  to  contain  dangerous  matter. 
The  suspected  volume  was  brought  to  the  bar  of  the  court 
by  the  advocate  general,  the  objectionable  passages  were 
read,  and  the  book  declared  to  be  "heretical,  schismati- 
cal,  erroneous,  blasphemous,  violent,  impious,"  and  con- 

1  Muyard  de  Vougland,  quoted  in  Du  Boys,  ii.  205. 

2  Question  preparatoire  ;  question  prealable,  sometimes  called  q.  de" 
finitive.  Desmaze,  Supplices,  177.  Desjardins,  p.  xx.  Howard,  pas- 
sim. The  English  have  long  boasted  that  torture  is  not  allowed  by 
their  law  ;  and  although  the  peine  forte  et  dure  was  undoubted  tor- 
ture, the  boast  is  in  general  not  unfounded.  Torture  was  abolished 
in  several  parts  of  Germany  in  the  eighteenth  century,  but  lingered 
in  other  parts  until  the  nineteenth.  It  was  not  done  away  in  Baden 
until  1831.     Lea,  Superstition  and  Force,  517. 


116  THE   EVE   OF   THE   FRENCH   REVOLUTION. 

demned  to  be  burned  by  the  public  executioner.  Then  a 
fagot  was  lighted  at  the  foot  of  the  great  steps  which  may- 
still  be  seen  in  front  of  the  court-house  in  Paris.  The 
street  boys  and  vagabonds  ran  to  see  the  show.  The 
clerk  of  the  court,  if  we  may  believe  a  contemporary, 
threw  a  dusty  old  Bible  into  the  fire,  and  locked  the  con- 
demned book,  doubly  valuable  for  its  condemnation,  safely 
away  in  his  book-case.^ 

As  for  the  author,  the  Parliament  would  sometimes 
proceed  directly  against  him,  but  oftener  he  was  dealt 
with  by  an  order  under  the  royal  hand  and  seal,  known  as 
a  lettre  de  cachet."^  Arbitrary  imprisonment,  without 
trial,  is  a  thing  so  outrageous  to  Anglo-Saxon  feelings 
that  we  are  apt  to  forget  that  it  has  until  recent  years 
formed  a  part  of  the  regular  practice  of  most  civilized 
nations.  It  is  considered  necessary  to  what  is  called  the 
police  of  the  country,  a  word  for  which  we  have  in  Eng- 
lish no  exact  equivalent.  Police,  in  this  sense,  not  only 
punishes  crime,  but  averts  danger.  Acts  which  may 
injure  the  public  are  prevented  by  guessing  at  evil  inten- 
tions ;  and  criminal  enterprises  are  not  allowed  to  come 
to  action. 

This  sort  of  protection  is  a  part  of  the  function  of  every 
government;  but  on  the  Continent,  in  old  times,  and  still 
in  some  countries,  long  and  painful  imprisonment  of  men 
who  had  never  been  convicted  of  any  crime  was  consid- 
ered one  of  the  proper  methods  of  police.  It  was  justified 
in  some  measure  in  French  eyes  by  the  fact  that  secrecy 
saved  the  f eelino^s  of  innocent  families,  which  thus  did  not 
suffer  in  the  public  estimation  for  the  misdeeds  of  one 
unruly  member.     In  France,  where  the  family  is  much 

^  Mercier,  iv.  241. 

2  The  lettre  de  cachet  was  written  on  paper,  signed  by  the  king, 
and  countersigned  by  a  minister.  It  was  so  sealed  that  it  could  not 
be  opened  without  breaking  the  seal.  It  was  reputed  a  private 
order.     Larousse. 


THE   COURTS   OF   LAW.  117 

more  of  a  unit  than  in  English-speaking  countries,  the 
disgrace  of  one  person  belonging  to  it  affects  the  others 
far  more  seriously.  The  httre  de  cachet  of  old  France, 
confining  its  victim  in  a  state  prison,  was  too  elaborate 
a  method  to  be  used  with  the  turbulent  lower  classes  —  for 
them  there  were  less  dignified  forms  of  proceeding;  but 
it  was  freely  employed  against  persons  of  any  consequence. 
Spendthrifts  and  licentious  youths  were  shut  up  at  the 
request  of  their  relations.  Authors  of  dangerous  books 
were  readily  clapped  into  the  Bastille,  Yincennes  or  Fors 
I'Eveque.  Voltaire,  Diderot,  Mirabeau,  and  many  others 
underwent  that  sort  of  confmement;  and  the  first  of  them 
is  said  to  have  procured  by  his  influence  the  incarceration 
of  one  of  his  own  literary  enemies.  Fallen  statesmen 
were  fortunate  when  they  did  not  pass  from  the  cabinet 
to  the  prison,  but  were  allowed  the  alternative  of  exile, 
or  of  seclusion  in  their  own  country  houses.  But  this 
was  not  the  worst.  The  lettre  de  cachet  was  too  often  the 
instrument  of  private  hate.  Signed  carelessly,  or  even 
in  blank,  by  the  king,  it  could  be  procured  by  the  favo- 
rite or  the  favorite's  favorite,  for  his  own  purposes.  And 
if  the  victim  had  no  protector  to  plead  his  cause,  he  might 
be  forgotten  in  captivity  and  waste  a  lifetime. 

For  such  abuses  as  this,  there  is  no  remedy  but  publi- 
city. If,  on  the  one  hand,  too  much  has  been  made  of  the 
romantic  story  of  the  Bastille,  which  was  certainly  not  a 
standing  menace  to  most  peaceable  Frenchmen,  too  gi'eat 
stress,  on  the  other  hand,  may  be  laid  on  the  undoubted 
fact  that  under  Louis  XVI.  the  grim  old  fortress  con- 
tained but  few  prisoners,  and  that  some  of  them  were 
persons  who  might  have  been  cast  into  prison  under  any 
system  of  government.  In  the  reign  of  that  king's  im- 
mediate predecessor  great  injustice  had  been  committed. 
Nor  had  arbitrary  proceedings  been  entirely  renounced 
by  the  government  of  Louis  XVI.  itself.  In  the  very 
last  year  before  that  in  which  the  Estates  General  met  at 


118     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

Versailles,  the  royal  ministers  imprisoned  in  the  Bastille 
twelve  Breton  gentlemen,  whose  crime  was  that  they  im- 
portunately presented  a  petition  from  the  nobles  of  their 
province.  The  apartments  which  they  were  to  occupy 
were  filled  with  other  prisoners,  so  room  was  made  by 
removing  these  unhappy  occupants  to  the  madhouse  at 
Charenton,  whence  they  were  released  only  in  the  fol- 
lowing year  by  order  of  a  committee  of  the  National 
Assembly.^ 

1  Barere,  i.  281.  Perhaps  the  most  terrifying  thing  about  the 
Bastille  was  that  no  one  really  knew  what  went  on  inside.  Mereier 
thinks  that  the  common  people  were  not  afraid  of  it,  iii.  287,  289. 


CHAPTER   IX. 

EQUALITY   AND   LIBERTY. 

It  was  as  a  privileged  order  tliat  the  Nobility  of  France 
principally  excited  the  ill-will  of  the  common  people. 
The  more  thoughtful  Frenchmen  of  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury, all  of  them  at  least  who  have  come  to  be  known  by 
the  name  of  Philosophers,  set  before  themselves  two  great 
ideals.  These  were  equality  and  liberty.  The  aspiration 
after  these  was  accompanied  in  their  minds  by  contempt 
for  the  past  and  its  lessons,  misunderstanding  of  the  ben- 
efits which  former  ages  had  bequeathed  to  them,  and 
hatred  of  the  wrongs  and  abuses  which  had  come  down 
from  earlier  times.  Among  them  the  word  gothic  was  a 
violent  term  of  reproach,  aimed  indiscriminately  at  build- 
ings, laws,  and  customs.  History,  with  the  exception  of 
that  of  Sparta,  was  thought  to  consist  far  more  of  warn- 
ings than  of  models.  Just  before  the  Revolution,  a  num- 
ber of  persons  who  had  met  in  a  lady's  parlor  were  dis- 
cussing the  education  of  the  Dauphin.  "I  think,"  said 
Lafayette,  "that  he  would  do  well  to  begin  his  History  of 
France  with  the  year  1787." 

This  tendency  to  depreciate  the  past  was  due  in  a  mea* 
sure  to  the  preference,  natural  to  lively  minds,  for  deduc- 
tive over  inductive  methods  of  thought.  It  is  so  much 
easier  and  pleasanter  to  assimie  a  few  plausible  general 
principles  and  meditate  upon  them,  than  to  amass  and  com- 
pare endless  series  of  dry  facts,  that  not  by  long  chasten- 
ing will  the  greater  part  of  the  world  be  brought  to  the 
more  arduous  method.  Nor  should  enthusiasm  for  one 
of  the  great  processes  of  thought  cause  contempt  of  the 


120     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

other.  Even  the  great  inductive  French  philosopher  of 
the  eighteenth  century,  Montesquieu,  failed  in  a  measure 
to  grasp  the  continuity  of  history ;  and  drew  the  facts  for 
his  study  rather  from  China  and  from  England  than 
from  France,  rather  from  the  Roman  republic  than  the 
existing  monarchy.  Fear  of  the  censor  and  of  the  civil 
and  ecclesiastical  tribunals,  which  would  not  bear  the 
open  discussion  of  questions  of  present  interest,  doubt- 
less added  to  this  tendency. 

The  idea  of  equality  at  first  seems  simple,  but  equality 
may  be  of  many  kinds.  Absolute  equality  in  all  respects 
between  two  human  beings,  no  one  has  ever  seen,  and 
no  one  perhaps  has  ever  thought  of  desiring.  All  the  re- 
lations of  life  are  founded  on  inequality.  By  their  differ- 
ences husband  and  wife,  friend  and  friend,  are  made 
necessary  and  endeared  to  each  other ;  the  parent  protects 
and  serves  the  child,  the  child  obeys  and  helps  the  par- 
ent ;  the  citizen  calls  on  the  magistrate  to  guard  his  rights, 
the  magistrate  enforces  the  laws  which  have  their  sanction 
in  the  consent  of  the  body  of  citizens.  Equality  as  a 
political  ideal  is  therefore  a  limited  equality.  It  may  ex- 
tend to  condition,  it  may  be  confined  to  civil  rights,  or  to 
opportunities. 

The  Philosophers  of  the  eighteenth  century,  followed 
by  a  school  in  our  day,  universally  assumed  that  an 
approximate  equality  of  condition  was  desirable.  Rous- 
seau agreed  with  Montesquieu,  in  believing  that  a  small 
republic,  none  of  whose  citizens  were  either  very  rich  or 
very  poor,  was  likely  to  be  in  a  desirable  condition.  Vir- 
tue, they  thought,  would  be  its  especial  characteristic. 
In  some  of  the  Swiss  cantons,  and  later  in  the  struggling 
American  colonies  of  Great  Britain,  Frenchmen  discov- 
ered communities  apj)roaching  their  ideal  in  respect  to  the 
equal  distribution  of  wealth;  and  their  discovery  in  the 
latter  case  was  not  without  great  results.  This  kind  of 
equality  has  since  passed  away  from  large  portions  of 


EQUALITY    AND    LIBERTY.  121 

America,  as  it  must  always  disappear  where  civilization 
increases.  Good  people  mourn  its  departure;  some  few, 
perhaps,  would  patiently  endure  its  return.  They  are 
about  as  numerous  as  those  who  abandon  city  life  to  dwell 
permanently  in  the  country,  also  the  home  of  comparative 
equality  of  condition.  The  theoretic  admiration  for  this 
sort  of  equality  was  shared  by  a  large  and  enlightened 
part  of  the  French  nobility.  Thus  the  order  was  weak- 
ened by  the  fact  that  many  of  its  own  members  did  not 
believe  in  its  claims. 

Another  kind  of  equality  is  that  of  civil  rights.  Be- 
fore the  Revolution,  France  was  ruled  by  law,  but  all 
Frenchmen  were  not  ruled  by  the  same  law.  There  were 
privileged  persons  and  privileged  localities.  Of  these 
anomalies,  sometimes  working  hardship,  the  minds  of  in- 
telligent men  at  that  time  were  especially  impatient. 
They  believed,  as  has  been  said,  in  natural  laws,  im- 
planted in  every  breast,  finding  their  expression  in  every 
conscience ;  and  many  of  them  entertained  a  crude  notion 
that  such  laws  could  easily  be  applied  to  the  enormously 
complicated  facts  of  actual  life.  Assuming  such  laws  to 
exist,  as  absolute  as  mathematical  axioms  and  far  easier 
of  application,  all  variation  was  error,  all  anomaly  absurd, 
all  claims  of  a  privileged  class  unfair  and  unfounded. 

Equality  of  civil  rights  is  also  desired  from  the  fear  of 
oppression;  a  very  important  motive  in  the  eighteenth 
century,  when  the  great  still  had  the  power  to  be  very 
oppressive  at  times.  We  have  seen  the  treatment  which 
Voltaire  received  at  the  hands  of  a  member  of  one  of  the 
great  families.  Outrages  still  more  flagrant  appear  to 
have  been  not  uncommon  in  the  reign  of  Louis  XV.,  and 
although  there  had  probably  never  been  a  time  in  France 
so  free  from  them  as  that  of  his  sucesssor,  their  memory 
was  still  fresh.  It  is  in  their  decrepitude  that  political 
abuses  are  most  ferociously  attacked.  When  young  and 
lusty  they  are  formidable. 


122     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

Again,  there  is  equality  of  opportunity.  This  is  de- 
sired as  a  means  of  subverting  equality  of  condition  to 
our  own  advantage,  as  a  chance  to  be  more  than  equal  to 
our  fellow-men.  This  kind  is  longed  for  by  the  able  and 
ambitious.  Where  it  is  denied,  the  strongest  good  men 
will  be  less  useful  to  the  state,  unless  they  happen  to  be 
favorably  placed  at  birth ;  the  strongest  bad  men  perhaps 
more  dangerous,  because  more  discontented.  It  is  this 
sort  of  equality,  more  than  any  other,  which  the  French 
Philosophers  and  their  followers  actually  secured  for 
Frenchmen,  and  in  a  less  degree  for  other  Europeans  of 
to-day.  By  their  efforts,  the  chance  of  the  poor  but  tal- 
ented child  to  rise  to  power  and  wealth  has  been  somewhat 
increased.  This  chance,  when  they  began  their  labors, 
was  not  so  hopeless  as  it  is  often  represented.  It  is  not 
now  so  great  as  it  is  sometimes  assumed  to  be.  Still, 
there  has  been  one  decided  advance.  We  have  seen  that 
under  the  old  monarchy  many  important  places  were 
reserved  for  members  of  the  noble  class,  and  practically 
for  a  few  families  among  them.  Since  that  monarchy 
passed  away,  the  opportunity  to  serve  the  state,  with  the 
great  prizes  which  public  life  offers  to  the  strong  and  the 
aspiring,  has  been  thrown  open,  theoretically  at  least,  to 
all  Frenchmen. 

If  the  idea  of  equality  be  comparatively  simple,  that  of 
liberty  is  very  much  the  reverse.  The  word,  in  its  gen- 
eral sense,  signifies  little  more  than  the  absence  of  external 
control.  In  politics  it  is  used,  in  the  first  place,  for  the 
absence  of  foreign  conquest,  and  in  this  sense  a  country 
may  be  called  free  although  it  is  governed  by  a  despot. 
The  next  signification  of  liberty  is  political  right,  and 
this  is  the  sense  in  which  it  has  been  most  used  until  re- 
cent years.  When  a  tyrant  overthrew  the  liberties  of  a 
Greek  city,  he  substituted  his  own  personal  rule  for  the 
rights  of  an  oligarchy.  The  mass  of  the  inhabitants  may 
have  been  neither  better  nor  worse  off  than  before.     When 


EQUALITY   AND   LTBEKTY.  123 

Hampden  resisted  the  encroachments  of  King  Charles  I., 
he  was  fighting  the  battle  of  the  upper  and  middle  classes 
against  despotism,  and  we  hold  him  one  of  the  principal 
champions  of  liberty.  Indeed,  liberty  in  this  sense  is  so 
far  from  being  identical  with  equality,  that  many  of  those 
who  have  been  foremost  in  its  defense  have  been  members 
of  aristocracies  and  holders  of  slaves.  To  accuse  them  of 
inconsistency  is  to  be  misled  by  the  ambiguous  meaning 
of  a  word.  They  fought  for  rights  which  they  believed  to 
be  their  own ;  they  denied  that  the  rights  of  all  men  were 
identical.  During  the  eighteenth  century  in  France,  cer- 
tain bodies,  such  as  the  clergy  and  the  Parliament  of  Paris, 
were  struggling  for  political  liberties  in  this  older  sense, 
and  before  the  outbreak  of  the  French  Revolution  many 
of  the  most  enlightened  of  the  nobility  hoped  to  acquire 
such  liberties.  Much  blood  and  confusion  might  have 
been  spared,  and  many  useful  reforms  accomplished,  had 
Frenchmen  clutched  less  wildly  at  the  phantom  of  equal- 
ity, and  sought  the  safer  goal  of  political  liberty. 

Another  sort  of  liberty,  although  it  has  undoubtedly 
been  desired  by  individuals  in  all  ages,  is  almost  entirely 
modern  as  an  ideal  for  civilized  communities.  This  is  the 
absence  of  interference,  not  only  of  a  foreign  power,  or 
of  a  lawless  oppressor,  but  of  the  very  law  itself.  The 
desire  for  such  freedom  as  this,  would  in  almost  all  ages  of 
the  world  have  been  held  inconsistent  with  proper  respect 
for  order  and  security.  It  would  have  been  considered  no 
more  than  the  wicked  longing  of  an  unchastened  spirit, 
the  temptation  of  the  Evil  One  himself.  In  the  eigh- 
teenth century,  however,  we  see  the  rise  of  new  opinions. 
It  may  be  that  order  had  become  so  firmly  established 
in  the  European  world  that  a  reaction  could  safely  set 
in.  At  any  rate  we  find  a  new  way  of  looking  at  thingSc 
"Independence,  "a  word  which  had  been  often  used  by  the 
clerical  party,  and  always  as  a  term  of  reproach,  is  treated 
by  the  Philosophers  with  favor.     Toleration  of  all  kinds 


124     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

of  opinions,  and  of  most  kinds  of  spoken  words,  is  mak- 
ino-  way.^  A  new  school  of  thinkers  is  adapting  the  new 
form  of  thought  to  economical  matters.  Laissez  faire; 
laissez  passer.  Restrict  the  functions  of  government. 
Order  will  arise  from  the  average  of  contending  interests ; 
the  right  direction  is  produced  by  the  sum  of  conflicting 
forces.  The  doctrine  has  exerted  enormous  influence 
since  the  French  Revolution  in  resisting  the  claims  of 
socialism,  —  that  new  form  of  tyranny  in  which  all  are  to 
be  the  despot  and  each  the  slave.  But  few  of  the  Phi- 
losophers accepted  it  entirely.  Most  of  them  desired  the 
constant  interference  of  the  government  for  one  purpose 
or  another,  and  many  believed  in  the  power,  almost  the 
omnipotence,  of  a  mythical  personage,  borrowed  in  part 
from  Plutarch  and  commonly  called  the  Legislator. 

The  history  and  action  of  this  personage  may  be  roughly 
stated  as  follows.  Every  nation  now  civilized  was  in 
early  days  in  a  barbarous  condition.  Once  upon  a  time, 
a  great  man  came  from  somewhere,  and  brought  a  com- 
plete set  of  laws,  morals,  and  manners  with  him.  To 
these  laws  and  customs  he  generally  ascribed  a  divine 
origin.  The  nation  to  which  they  were  proclaimed 
adopted  them,  and  the  people's  subsequent  happiness  and 
prosperity  were  in  proportion  to  their  excellence.  The 
reasons  which  are  supposed  to  have  induced  the  barbarous 
tribe  to  change  all  its  habits  at  the  bidding  of  one  man 
are  seldom  given,  or  if  given,  are  ludicrously  inadequate. 
The  theory  of  the  legislator  is  now  out  of  date.  It  is 
generally  held  that  the  institutions  of  every  race  have 
grown  up  with  it,  that  they  are  appropriate  to  its  nature 
and  history,  gradually  modified  sometimes  by  act  of  the 
national  will,  and  more  or  less  changed  under  foreign 
influences,  but  that  their  general  character  cannot  sud- 

1  In  spite  of  the  impatience  shown  by  Voltaire  of  any  criticism  of 
himself,  he  and  his  followers  did  more  than  any  other  men  that  ever 
lived  to  make  criticism  free  to  all  writers. 


EQUALITY    AND   LIBERTY.  125 

denly  be  subverted.  Its  institutions  thus  as  truly  belong 
to  a  civilized  race,  as  the  skin  without  fur  or  the  erect 
position  belong  to  mankind.  There  is  some  evidence  in 
support  of  either  theory,  and  the  truth  will  probably  be 
found  to  lie  between  them,  although  nearer  to  the  latter. 
Yet  the  effect  of  a  higher  civilization  implanted  on  a  lower 
one  seems  at  times  singidarly  rapid.  The  story  of  the 
legislator  is  a  part  of  most  early  histories  and  mytholo- 
gies. The  classical  model  has  generally  been  held  to  be 
either  Minos  or  Lycurgus.  There  were  few  clever  men 
in  France  between  the  years  1740  and  1790  who  did  not 
dream  of  trying  on  the  sandals  of  those  worthies. 

While  the  ideas  attached  to  equality  and  to  liberty  were 
vague  and  indefinite,  it  was  generally  assumed  that  they 
would  coincide.  Liberty  and  equality,  however,  have 
tendencies  naturally  opposed  to  each  other.  Remove  the 
exterior  forces  which  control  the  wills  of  men,  overturn 
foreign  domination,  give  every  citizen  political  rights, 
reduce  the  interference  of  laws  to  a  minimum,  and  the 
natural  differences  and  inequalities  of  physical,  mental, 
and  moral  strength,  or  power  of  will,  inherent  in  man- 
kind, will  have  the  fuller  opportunity  to  act.  The  strong 
improve  their  natural  advantage,  they  acquire  dominion 
over  their  weaker  neighbors,  they  monopolize  opportuni- 
ties for  themselves,  their  friends  and  their  children.  Only 
by  keeping  all  men  in  strict  subjection  to  something  out- 
side of  themselves  can  all  be  kept  in  comparative  equality. 
This  fact  was  instinctively  apprehended  by  one  school 
of  French  thinkers.  AVe  shall  see  that  tlie  followers  of 
Rousseau,  while  posing  as  champions  of  Liberty,  were  in 
fact  the  founders  of  a  system  which  is  the  very  antithesis 
of  individual  freedom. ^ 

^  It  is  perhaps  needless  to  remark  that  I  have  touched  here  only 
on  the  political  meanings  of  the  word  Liberty.  In  the  eighteenth 
century  the  word  was  much  used  in  its  philosophical  sense,  and  the 
eternal  problem  of  necessity  and  free-will  was  warmly  discussed. 


CHAPTER  X. 

MONTESQUIEU. 

One  man  stands  out  among  tte  French  nobility  of 
the  gown  in  the  eighteenth  century,  influencing  human 
thought  beyond  the  walls  of  the  court-room ;  one  Philoso- 
pher who  looks  on  existing  society  as  something  to  be  saved 
and  directed.  The  work  of  Voltaire  and  his  followers  was 
principally  negative.  Their  favorite  task  was  demolition. 
The  ugly  and  uninhabitable  edifices  of  Rousseau's  genius 
required  for  their  erection  a  field  from  which  all  possible 
traces  of  civilized  building  had  been  removed.  But  Mon- 
tesquieu, while  he  satirized  the  vices  of  the  society  which 
he  saw  about  him,  yet  appreciated  at  their  full  value  the 
benefits  of  civilization.  He  recognized  that  change  is 
always  accompanied  by  evil,  even  if  its  preponderating 
result  be  good,  and  that  it  should  be  attempted  only  with 
care  and  caution.  His  ideas  influenced  the  leading  men 
of  the  second  half  of  the  century  somewhat  in  proportion 
to  their  judgment  and  in  inverse  proportion  to  their  enthu- 
siasm. 

Charles  Louis  de  Secondat,  Baron  of  Montesquieu, 
born  in  1689,  was  by  inheritance  one  of  the  presidents  of 
the  Parliament  of  Bordeaux.  ^  He  was  recognized  in 
early  life  as  a  rising  man,  a  respectable  magistrate,  sensi- 
ble and  brilliant  rather  than  learned ;  a  man  of  the  world, 
rich  and  thrifty,  not  very  happily  married,  and  fond  of 

1  111  his  youth  he  was  known  as  Charles  Louis  de  la  Br^de,  the 
name  being  taken  from  a  fief  of  his  mother.  The  name  of  Mon- 
tesquieu he  inherited  from  an  uncle,  together  with  his  place  of 
president  a  mortier.     Vian,  Histoire  de  Montesquieu,  16,  30. 


MONTESQUIEU.  127 

the  society  of  ladies.  In  appearance  he  was  ugly,  with 
a  large  head,  weak  eyes,  a  big  nose,  a  retreating  forehead 
and  chin.  In  temperament  he  was  calm  and  cheerful. 
"I  have  had  very  few  sorrows,"  he  says,  "and  still  less 
ennui."  —  "Study  has  been  to  me  a  sovereign  remedy 
against  the  troubles  of  life,  and  I  have  never  had  a  grief 
that  an  hour's  reading  would  not  dissipate."  He  was  shy, 
he  tells  us,  but  less  among  bright  people  than  among 
stupid  ones.  Good-natured  he  appears  to  have  been, 
and  somewhat  selfish ;  easily  amused,  less  by  what  people 
said  than  by  their  way  of  saying  it.  He  was  a  good  land- 
lord and  a  kind  master.  It  is  told  of  him  that  one  day, 
while  scolding  one  of  his  servants,  he  turned  round  with  a 
laugh  to  a  friend  standing  by.  "They  are  like  clocks," 
said  he,  "and  need  winding  up  now  and  then.^ 

Montesquieu  set  himself  a  high  standard  of  duty.  In 
a  paper  intended  only  for  his  son,  he  writes :  "  If  I  knew 
something  which  was  useful  to  myself  and  injurious  to  my 
family,  I  should  reject  it  from  my  mind.  If  I  knew  of 
anything  which  was  useful  to  my  family  and  which  was 
not  so  to  my  country,  I  should  try  to  forget  it.  If  I 
knew  something  useful  to  my  country,  which  was  injuri- 
ous to  Europe  and  the  human  race,  I  should  consider  it  a 
crime."  ^ 

Montesquieu's  first  book  appeared  in  1721,  a  book  very 
different  from  those  which  followed  it.  It  is  witty  and 
licentious  after  a  rather  stately  fashion,  full  of  keen  obser- 
vation and  cutting  satire.  In  contrast  to  the  books  of 
other  famous  writers  of  the  century,  the  "  Persian  Letters  " 
are  eminently  the  work  of  a  gentleman;  —  of  a  French 
gentleman,  when  the  Duke  of  Orleans  was  Regent. 

^  See  the  medallion  given  in  Vian,  and  said  by  the  Biographie 
universelle  to  be  the  only  authentic  portrait.  Also  Montesq.  vii.  150, 
(Pensees  diverses.  Portrait  de  M.  par  lui-imme,  apparently  written 
when  he  was  about  forty).     Also  Vian,  141. 

^  Montesq.,  vii.  157. 


128     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

The  "Lettres  Persanes  "  are,  as  their  name  suggests,  the 
supposed  correspondence  of  two  rich  Persians,  Usbek  and 
Rica,  traveling  in  France  and  exchanging  letters  with 
their  friends  and  their  eunuchs  in  Persia.  The  letters 
which  the  travelers  receive,  containing  the  gossip  of  their 
harems,  form  but  the  smaller  portion  of  the  book,  and  are 
evidently  intended  to  give  it  variety  and  lightness.  In 
the  letters  which  they  write  to  their  Persian  correspondents 
we  have  the  satirical  picture  of  French  society.  How  far 
had  the  ruling,  infallible  church  sunk  in  the  minds  of 
Frenchmen,  when  a  well-placed  and  rather  selfish  man 
could  write  what  follows. 

"The  Pope  is  the  chief  of  the  Christians.  He  is  an  old 
idol,  to  which  people  burn  incense  from  the  force  of  habit. 
In  old  times  he  was  formidable  even  to  princes;  for  he 
deposed  them  as  easily  as  our  magnificent  Sultans  depose 
the  kings  of  Irimette  and  of  Georgia.  But  he  is  no  longer 
feared.  He  calls  himself  the  successor  of  one  of  the  ear- 
liest Christians,  known  as  Saint  Peter ;  and  it  is  certainly 
a  rich  inheritance,  for  he  has  enormous  treasures  and  a 
rich  country  under  his  dominion." 

The  bishops  are  legists,  subordinate  to  the  Pope.  They 
have  two  functions.  When  assembled  they  make  articles 
of  faith  as  he  does.  When  separate,  they  dispense  people 
from  obeying  the  law.  For  the  Christian  religion  is  full 
of  difficult  observances ;  and  it  is  thought  to  be  harder  to 
do  your  duty  than  to  have  bishops  to  give  you  dispensation. 
The  doctors,  bishops,  and  monks  are  constantly  raising 
questions  on  religious  subjects,  and  dispute  for  a  long 
time,  until  at  last  an  assembly  is  held  to  decide  among 
them.  In  no  kingdom  have  there  been  as  many  civil  wars 
as  in  that  of  Christ.^ 

Farther  on  we  have  a  picture  of  the  way  in  which  reli- 
gion is  regarded  in  French  society.  It  is  less  a  subject 
of  sanctification  than  of  dispute.  Courtiers,  soldiers,  even 
^  Montesq.,  i.  124.     Letter  xxix. 


MONTESQUIEU.  129 

women,  rise  up  against  ecclesiastics  and  ask  them  to  prove 
what  the  others  have  resolved  not  to  believe.  This  is  not 
because  people  have  determined  their  minds  by  reason, 
nor  that  they  have  taken  the  trouble  to  examine  the  truth 
or  falsehood  of  this  religion  which  they  reject.  They  are 
rebels  who  have  felt  the  yoke  and  who  have  shaken  it  off 
before  they  have  known  it.  They  are,  therefore,  no 
firmer  in  their  unbelief  than  in  their  faith.  They  live  in 
an  ebbing  and  flowing  tide,  which  unceasingly  carries 
them  from  one  to  the  other.  ^  Making  a  large  allowance 
for  satire,  we  have  yet  an  interesting  and  doleful  picture 
of  a  small  but  important  part  of  the  French  nation.  And 
it  is  noticeable  that  the  Persian  Letters  precede  by  thir- 
teen years  Voltaire's  "Philosophical,"  or  "English  Let- 
ters." 2 

Montesquieu  argues  that  it  is  well  to  have  several  sects 
in  a  country,  as  they  keep  a  watch  on  each  other,  and 
every  man  is  anxious  not  to  disgrace  his  party.  But  it  is 
for  toleration  and  not  for  equality  that  the  author  pleads. 
A  state  church  seemed  almost  necessary  to  thought  in  the 
early  part  of  the  eighteenth  century.  Yet  Montesquieu 
has  no  great  liking  for  any  form  of  dogmatic  religion; 
in  this  he  belongs  distinctly  with  the  Philosophers; 
morality  is,  in  his  eyes,  the  great,  perhaps  the  only 
thing  to  be  desired;  obedience  to  law,  love  to  men,  filial 
piety,  these  he  says  are  the  first  acts  of  all  religions; 
ceremonies  are  good  only  on  the  supposition  that  God  has 
commanded  them;  but  about  the  commands  of  God  it  is 
easy  to  be  mistaken,  for  there  are  two  thousand  religions, 
each  of  which  puts  in  its  claim.  Thus  was  the  great 
argument  of  the  Catholics,  that  the  multiplicity  of  Prot- 
estant sects  proved  their  falsity,  turned  against  its  inven- 
tors.^ 

1  Montesq.,  i.  251.     Letter  Ixxv.  2  1721-1734. 

8  Ibid.,  i.  164.  Letter  xlvi.  Compare  with  Montesquieu's  opinion, 
expressed  in  the  Spirit  of  the  Laws,  that  the  sovereign  should  neither 


130  THE   EVE   OF   THE    FRENCH   REVOLUTION. 

The  licentiousness  of  the  "Persian  Letters"  has  been 
mentioned.  It  is  one  of  the  most  noticeable  features  of 
the  writings  of  the  Philosophers  of  the  eighteenth  century 
that  the  whole  subject  of  sexual  morality  is  viewed  by 
them  from  a  standpoint  different  from  that  taken  by  our° 
selves.  The  thinking  Frenchmen  of  that  age  believed 
that  there  was  a  system  of  natural  morals,  imposed  on 
man  by  his  own  nature  and  the  nature  of  things.  They 
believed  that  there  was  also  an  artificial  system  resting 
only  on  positive  law,  or  on  the  ordinances  of  the  church. 
It  was  the  tendency  of  the  ecclesiastical  mind  to  ignore 
that  distinction.  That  tendency  had  been  pushed  too  far 
and  had  produced  a  reaction. 

The  distinction  is  one  which  is  not  quite  disregarded 
even  by  men  of  those  races  which  have  most  respect  for 
law.  Nobody  feels  that  the  injunction  to  keep  off  the 
grass  in  a  public  park,  or  the  rule  to  pass  to  the  right  in 
driving,  is  of  quite  the  same  sort  of  obligation  as  the  pre- 
cept to  keep  your  hands  from  picking  and  stealing.  A  far 
greater  amount  of  odium  is  incurred  by  the  known  breach 
of  a  rule  of  natural  morals,  than  by  that  of  a  rule  depend- 
ing solely  on  the  ordinance  of  the  legislative  power. 
Smuggling  may  be  mentioned  as  a  crime  coming  near  the 
dividing  line  in  the  popular  feeling  of  most  countries. 
Few  men  would  feel  as  much  disgraced  at  being  caught 
by  a  custom-house  officer,  with  a  box  of  cigars  hidden 
under  the  trowsers  at  the  bottom  of  their  trunk,  as  at 
being  seized  in  the  act  of  stealing  the  same  box  from  the 
counter  of  a  tobacconist.  In  countries  where  the  laws 
are  arbitrary  and  the  law-making  power  distrusted,  this 
distinction  is  more  strongly  marked  than  where  the  gov- 
ernment has  the  full  confidence  and  approbation  of  the 
community.  The  more  progressive  Frenchmen  of  a  hun- 
dred and  fifty  years  ago  believed  the  laws  of  their  country 

allow  the  establishment  of  a  new  form  of  religion,  nor  persecute  one 
already  established. 


MONTESQUIEU.  131 

to  be  bad  in  many  respects.  They  therefore  thought  that 
there  was  a  great  difference  between  what  jurists  call 
prohibited  wrong  and  lorong  in  itself. 

Now,  admitting  this  distinction  to  exist  in  men's  minds, 
there  is  one  large  class  of  crimes  and  vices  which  is  put  in 
one  category  by  most  Anglo-Saxons  and  which  was  put  in 
the  other  by  the  French  Philosophers.  These  are  the 
breaches  of  the  sexual  laws.  It  is  one  of  the  greatest 
services  of  the  church  to  Christendom  that  she  has  always 
laid  particular  emphasis  on  the  duty  of  chastity.  It  is 
one  of  her  greatest  errors,  that  she  has  exalted  the  prac- 
tice of  celibacy  over  that  of  conjugal  fidelity.  The  Philo- 
sophers, as  was  their  custom,  looked  abroad  on  the  prac- 
tice of  various  nations.  They  found  that  some  of  the 
ancients  granted  divorce  freely  at  the  request  of  either 
party.  They  learned  that  Orientals  generally  allowed 
polygamy.  They  saw  in  their  own  country  a  low  state  of 
sexual  morals  amoijg  the  highest  classes,  partly  due  per- 
haps to  the  example  of  a  depraved  court.  Observation 
and  desire  concurred  with  hatred  of  the  clergy  to  warp 
their  judgments.  They  forgot,  at  least  in  part,  that 
chastity  is  the  foundation  of  the  family  and  the  civilized 
state ;  that  divorce  and  polygamy,  although  of  momentous 
importance,  are  but  secondary  questions;  that  on  sexual 
self-restraint  civilization  rests,  as  much  as  on  respect  for 
life  and  property.  On  the  false  theory  that  unchastity 
is  but  an  artificial  crime,  the  delusive  invention  of  an 
ascetic  church,  will,  I  think,  be  found  to  depend  much 
that  has  been  worst  in  the  practice  of  Frenchmen,  much 
that  is  most  disgusting  in  their  literature.^ 

This  theory  is  seldom  held  unreservedly.  In  the  "  Per- 
sian Letters"  it  goes  no  farther  than  an  elaborate  apol- 

^  The  commandment  "  Thou  shalt  not  commit  adultery "  is 
equally  applicable  to  polygamists  and  monogamists.  It  was  origi- 
nally promulgated  to  the  former,  and  to  a  nation  in  which  a  man 
could  put  away  his  wife. 


132  THE   EVE   OF   THE   FRENCH    REVOLUTION. 

ogy  for  divorce,  a  scathing  denunciation  of  celibacy,  and 
a  general  licentiousness  of  tone.  The  later  writings  of 
Montesquieu  are  free  from  indecency.  But  it  is  noticeable 
of  him,  perhaps  the  most  high-minded  of  the  Philosophers, 
and  of  the  rest  of  them,  that  while  they  constantly  insist 
on  the  importance  of  virtue,  they  hardly  rank  chastity 
among  the  virtues.^ 

The  monarchy  fares  little  better  than  the  church  in  the 
"Persian  Letters."  "The  King  of  France,"  says  Rica, 
"is  the  most  powerful  prince  in  Europe.  He  has  no  gold- 
mines like  his  neighbor  the  King  of  Spain ;  but  he  has 
more  wealth  than  the  latter,  for  he  draws  it  from  the  van- 
ity of  his  subjects,  more  inexhaustible  than  mines.  He 
has  been  known  to  undertake  and  carry  on  great  wars, 
with  no  other  resource  than  titles  of  honor  to  sell ;  and 
by  a  prodigy  of  human  pride,  his  troops  were  paid,  his 
forts  furnished,  his  fleets  equipped." 

"  Moreover,  this  king  is  a  great  magician ;  he  rules  the 
very  minds  of  his  subjects;  he  makes  them  think  as  he 
pleases.  If  he  has  only  one  million  dollars  in  his  treas- 
ury and  needs  two,  he  has  but  to  assure  them  that  one 
dollar  is  worth  two,  and  they  believe  him.  If  he  has  a 
difficult  war  to  carry  on,  and  has  no  money,  he  has  but 
to  put  it  into  their  heads  that  a  piece  of  paper  is  bullion, 
and  immediately  they  are  convinced.  He  even  goes  so  far 
as  to  make  them  believe  that  he  cures  them  of  all  manner 
of  diseases  by  touching  them.  Such  is  the  strength  and 
power  that  he  has  over  their  minds."  ^ 

"What  I  tell  you  of  this  prince  need  not  astonish  you. 
There  is  another  magician  stronger  than  he ;  who  is  no 

1  See  the  story  of  a  Guebir  who  marries  his  sister,  Montesq.,  i.  226, 
Letter  Ixvii.  The  point  appears  to  be  that  the  laws  forbidding 
marriage  in  cases  of  consanguinity  are  arbitrary. 

2  Ibid.,  i.  110,  Letter  xxiv.  Referring  to  the  sale  of  offices  and 
titles,  to  the  habit  of  debasing  the  coinage,  and  to  that  of  touching 
for  scrofula. 


MONTESQUIEU.  133 

less  master  of  the  king's  spirit,  than  the  king  himself 
is  of  that  of  others.  This  magician  is  called  the  Pope. 
Sometimes  he  makes  the  king  believe  that  three  are  only 
one ;  that  the  bread  people  eat  is  not  bread,  that  the  wine 
that  they  drink  is  not  wine,  and  many  things  of  the  same 
kind." 

Rica  has  seen  the  young  king,  Louis  XV.  His  coun- 
tenance is  majestic  and  charming;  a  good  education,  added 
to  a  good  natural  disposition,  gives  promise  of  a  great 
sovereign.  But  Rica  is  informed  that  you  cannot  tell 
about  these  western  kings  until  you  know  of  their  mistress 
and  their  confessor.  Under  a  young  prince  these  exercise 
rival  powers ;  under  an  old  one,  they  are  united.  The 
strength  of  a  young  king  makes  the  dervish  weak ;  but  the 
mistress  turns  both  strength  and  weakness  to  account."^ 

The  Christian  princes  long  ago  freed  all  the  slaves  in 
their  states ;  saying  that  Christianity  made  all  men  equal. 
This  religious  action  was  very  useful  to  them,  for  it 
abridged  the  power  of  their  chief  lords.  Since  then,  they 
have  conquered  new  countries  where  slavery  was  profit- 
able. They  have  forgotten  their  religion  and  allowed 
slaves  to  be  bought  and  sold.^ 

The  French  are  more  governed  by  the  laws  of  honor 
than  the  Persians,  because  they  are  more  free.  But  the 
sanctuary  of  honor,  reputation,  and  virtue  seems  to  be 
built  in  republics,  where  a  man  may  feel  that  he  has 
indeed  a  country.  In  Greece  and  Rome  a  crown  of 
leaves,  a  statue,  the  praise  of  the  state,  were  recompense 
enough  for  a  battle  won  or  a  city  taken.  Switzerland 
and  Holland,  with  the  poorest  soil  in  Europe,  are  the 
most  populous  countries  for  their  area.  Liberty  —  and 
opulence,  which  always  follows  it  —  draws  strangers  to  the 
country.  Political  equality  among  citizens  generally  pro- 
duces equality  of  fortune,  and  scatters  abundance  and  life. 

1  Montesq.,  i.  339,  Letter  cvii. 

2  Ibid.,  i.  252,  Letter  Ixxv. 


134     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

But  under  an  arbitrary  government,  the  prince,  his  cour- 
tiers, and  a  few  individuals,  possess  all  the  wealth,  while 
the  rest  of  the  country  suffers  from  extreme  poverty. ^ 

The  satirical  character  of  the  "Persian  Letters  "  is  suffi- 
ciently evident  from  the  extracts  given  above.  But  Mon- 
tesquieu is  far  more  widely  and  justly  known  as  a  wise 
and  learned  writer  on  government  than  as  a  satirist.  The 
book  we  have  been  considering  was  by  far  the  lightest,  as 
it  was  the  earliest,  of  his  considerable  writings.  The  good 
sense,  caution,  and  conservatism  of  his  nature  appear  in 
the  "Persian  Letters  "  less  conspicuously  than  in  his  later 
works;  yet,  even  there,  are  in  marked  contrast  to  the 
haste  and  shallowness  of  many  of  the  Philosophers.  "It 
is  true,"  he  says,  "that  laws  must  sometimes  be  altered, 
but  the  case  h  rare ;  and  when  it  happens,  they  should  be 
touched  with  a  trembling  hand;  and  so  many  solemni- 
ties should  be  observed,  and  so  many  precautions  used, 
that  the  people  may  naturally  conclude  that  the  laws  are 
very  sacred,  since  so  many  formalities  are  necessary  to 
abrogate  them."^ 

Here  is  an  opinion,  overstated  perhaps,  but  not  with- 
out its  frequent  illustrations  since  he  wrote  it.  "It  seems 
.  .  .  that  the  largest  heads  grow  narrow  when  they  are 
assembled,  and  that  where  there  are  most  wise  men,  there 
is  least  wisdom.  Large  bodies  are  always  deeply  at- 
tached to  details,  to  vain  customs ;  and  essential  matters 
are  always  postponed.  I  have  heard  that  a  king  of 
Aragon,  having  assembled  the  Estates  of  Aragon  and 
Catalonia,  the  first  meetings  were  taken  up  in  deciding 
in  what  language  the  deliberations  should  be  held.  The 
dispute  was  lively,  and  the  Estates  would  have  broken  up 
a  thousand  times,  had  not  an  expedient  been  hit  upon, 

1  Montesq.,  i.  291,  Letter  Ixxxix.     See  also  pp.  381,  386,  Letters 
cxxii.,  cxxiv. 

2  Ibid.,  i.  401,  Letter  exxix. 


MONTESQUIEU.  135 

which  was  that  the  questions  should  be  put  in  Catalonian 
and  the  answers  given  in  Aragonese."^ 

"I  have  never  heard  people  talk  about  public  law,"  he 
says  in  another  letter,  "that  they  did  not  inquire  carefully 
what  was  the  origin  of  society;  which  strikes  me  as  ab- 
surd. If  men  did  not  form  a  society,  if  they  separated 
and  fled  from  each  other,  we  should  have  to  ask  the 
reason  of  it,  and  to  seek  out  why  they  kept  apart.  But 
they  are  created  all  bound  to  each  other,  the  son  is  born 
near  his  father  and  stays  there;  this  is  society,  and  the 
cause  of  society."  ^ 

A  satirical  book,  like  the  "Persian  Letters,"  could  not 
have  been  openly  published  in  France  under  Louis  XV. 
The  first  edition  was  in  fact  printed  at  Amsterdam, 
although  Cologne  appeared  on  the  title-page  as  the  place  of 
publication.  The  book  was  anonymous,  but  Montesquieu 
was  well  known  to  be  the  author,  and  speedily  acquired 
a  great  reputation.  After  several  years,  for  things  did 
not  move  fast  in  Old  France,  he  was  proposed  for  election 
to  the  Academy.  To  be  one  of  the  forty  members  of  that 
body  is  the  legitimate  ambition  of  the  literary  French- 
man. The  Cardinal  de  Fleury,  who  was  prime  minister, 
is  said  to  have  announced  that  the  king  would  never  con- 
sent to  the  election  of  the  author  of  the  "Persian  Letters." 
He  added  that  he  had  not  read  the  book,  but  that  people 
in  whom  he  had  confidence  assured  him  that  it  was  dan- 
gerous. According  to  Voltaire,  Montesquieu  thereupon 
had  a  garbled  edition  of  the  Letters  hastily  printed,  him- 
seK  took  a  copy  to  the  Cardinal,  induced  His  Eminence 
to  read  a  part  of  it,  and,  with  the  help  of  friends,  pre- 

^  Montesq.,  i.  344,  Letter  cix.  See  several  of  the  principal  delib- 
erative bodies  of  the  world  so  bound  by  their  own  rules  that  they 
can  scarcely  move  ;  and  compare  with  them  in  point  of  efficiency  the 
small  legislatures  and  boards  which  manage  many  important  and 
complicated  interests  promptly,  sitting  with  closed  doors. 

*  Ibid.,  i.  301,  Letter  xciv. 


136     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

vailed  on  him  to  alter  his  decision.  Such  a  trick  is  more 
worthy  of  Voltaire,  who  continually  denied  his  own 
works,  than  of  Montesquieu,  who,  I  believe,  never  did  so. 
D'Alembert  tells  the  story  in  a  way  entirely  creditable 
to  the  latter.  He  says  that  Montesquieu  saw  the  minister, 
told  him  that  for  private  reasons  he  did  not  give  his  name 
to  the  "Persian  Letters,"  but  that  he  was  far  from  disown- 
ing a  book  of  which  he  did  not  think  he  had  cause  to  be 
ashamed.  He  then  insisted  that  the  Letters  should  be 
judged  after  reading  them,  and  not  on  hearsay.  There- 
upon the  Cardinal  read  the  book,  was  pleased  with  it  and 
with  its  author,  and  withdrew  his  opposition  to  the  lat- 
ter's  election  to  the  Academy.^ 

A  little  before,  this  time  Montesquieu  resigned  his 
place  as  one  of  the  presidents  of  the  Parliament  of  Bor- 
deaux, selling  the  life  estate  in  it,  but  reserving  the  rever- 
sion for  his  son.  Having  thus  obtained  leisure,  he  set 
out  on  a  long  course  of  travel,  lasting  three  years.  "In 
France,"  said  he  later,  "I  make  friends  with  everybody; 
in  England  with  nobody ;  in  Italy  I  make  compliments  to 
every  one ;  in  Germany  I  drink  with  every  one."  "When 
I  go  into  a  country,  I  do  not  look  to  see  if  there  are  good 
laws,  but  whether  they  execute  those  they  have ;  for  there 
are  good  laws  everywhere."^ 

Montesquieu  arrived  in  England  in  the  autumn  of  1729, 
sailing  from  Holland  in  the  yacht  of  Lord  Chesterfield, 

1  Nouvelle  Biographic  Universelle.  Voltaire  {Siecle  de  Louis  XI V. 
liste  des  ecrivains).  D'Alembert,  vi.  252.  The  date  of  Montesquieu's 
election  was  Jan.  24,  1728.  See  a  discussion  of  the  whole  story  in 
Vian,  100.  Montesquieu  is  there  said  to  have  threatened  to  leave 
France,  and  to  have  declined  a  pension  at  this  time.  Montesquieu 
tells  the  story  of  the  pension,  but  without  fixing  a  date:  *'  Je  dis  que 
n'ayant  pas  fait  de  bassesse,  je  n'avais  pas  besoin  d'etre  console  par 
des  graces,"  vii.  157.  Voltaire  was  always  jealous  of  Montesquieu's 
reputation  ;  and  also,  at  this  time,  out  of  temper  with  the  Academy, 
to  which  he  was  elected  only  in  1746. 

2  Vian,  90.     Montesq.  vii.  186,  189. 


MONTESQUIEU.  137 

whose  acquaintance  he  had  made  on  the  Continent.  He 
spent  seventeen  months  in  the  country,  and,  in  spite  of 
his  epigram  about  making  friends  with  nobody,  saw  some 
of  the  most  eminent  men,  inchiding  Swift  and  Pope,  was 
received  by  the  Royal  Society,  and  presented  at  Court. 
At  a  time  when  England  and  the  English  language  were 
little  known  in  France,  he  studied  them  in  a  way  which 
deeply  influenced  all  his  views  of  government.  "In 
London,"  he  says,  "liberty  and  equality.  The  liberty 
of  London  is  the  liberty  of  the  best  people,^  in  which  it 
differs  from  the  liberty  of  Venice,"  which  is  the  liberty 
of  debauchery.  "The  equality  of  London  is  also  the 
equality  of  ihe  best  people,  in  which  it  differs  from 
the  liberty  of  Holland,  which  is  the  liberty  of  the  popu- 
lace.^' 

"England  is  at  present  the  most  free  country  in  the 
world;  I  do  not  except  any  republic.  I  call  it  free 
because  the  prince  can  do  no  conceivable  harm  to  any- 
body ;  because  his  power  is  controlled  and  limited  by  a 
law.  But  if  the  lower  chamber  should  become  the  mis- 
tress, its  power  would  be  unlimited  and  dangerous,  because 
it  would  have  executive  power  also ;  whereas  now  unlim- 
ited power  is  in  the  parliament  and  the  king,  and  the  ex- 
ecutive power  in  the  king,  whose  power  is  limited.  A 
good  Englishman  must,  therefore,  seek  to  defend  liberty 
equally  against  the  attacks  of  the  crown  and  those  of  the 
chamber.  "2 

Montesquieu  brought  back  from  England  an  admira- 
tion of  what  he  had  seen  there  as  genuine,  and  far  more 
discriminating  than  that  of  Voltaire.  While  the  studies 
of  Montesquieu  were  principally  directed  to  the  political 
institutions  of  the  country,  those  of  Voltaire  embraced 
the   jihilosophy  and    social   life    of    England.     Through 

1  Honnestes  geyis,  which  cannot  be  exactly  translated.     Montesq., 
vii.  185.  Vian,  112. 
"^  Montesq.,  vii.  195  {Notes  sur  VAngleterre). 


138     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

these  two  great  men,  more  perhaps  than  through  any 
others,  English  ideas  were  spread  in  France  in  the  middle 
of  the  eighteenth  century. ^ 

Montesquieu  now  went  on  with  his  studies  with  an 
enlarged  mind.  He  would  appear,  before  he  started  on 
his  travels,  to  have  already  formed  the  project  of  writing 
a  great  work  on  the  Spirit  of  the  Laws.  But  in  1734  he 
published  a  smaller  book,  the  "  Greatness  and  Decadence 
of  the  Komans."  It  is  said  that  this  essay  was  composed 
of  a  part  of  the  material  collected  for  the  Spirit  of  the 
Laws,  and  was  published  separately  in  order  not  to  give 
the  Komans  too  large  a  place  in  the  more  important  work. 
This  has  been  doubted,  but  there  is  nothing  either  in  the 
subject  or  in  the  treatment  to  make  it  improbable.  Nor 
is  it  important,  so  long  as  between  the  two  books  there  is 
unity  of  purpose  and  agreement  of  method. 

The  "Greatness  and  Decadence  of  the  Eomans "  is  a 
study  of  philosophic  history.  In  form  it  is  not  unlike 
Machiavelli's  Discourses  on  the  first  ten  books  of  Livy. 
That  remarkable  work  would  have  been  most  profitable 
reading  for  Frenchmen  of  the  eighteenth  century,  as  it 
must  be  in  all  times  for  students  of  the  science  of  poli- 
tics. Of  republics  Machiavelli  had  more  experience  than 
Montesquieu.  Both  considered  the  republican  form  of 
government  the  most  desirable ;  both  thought  it  impossi- 
ble without  the  preservation  of  substantial  equality  of 
property  among  the  citizens.  Montesquieu,  who  knew 
more  of  monarchy  than  Machiavelli,  had  also  more  faith 
in  it.  Both  hated  the  rule  of  the  Roman  Church. ^  The 
Frenchman  excels  the  Italian  in  practical  wisdom ;  he  is 
also  more  brilliant.  By  his  brilliancy  he  may  sometimes 
have  been  led  away,  but  I  think  not  often.  While  we 
feel  in  reading  Voltaire  that  the  sparkling  point  is  often 

1  Voltaire  returned  from  England  a  few  months  before  Montes- 
quieu went  there  in  1729. 

2  Machiavelli,  ii.  210.     Montesq.,  ii.  136,  140.    Mach.,  ii.  130- 


MONTESQUIEU.  139 

tlie  cause  of  the  saying,  with  Montesquieu  we  are  gen- 
erally struck  with  the  weight  of  thought  in  what  we 
read. 

"The  tyranny  of  a  prince,"  says  Montesquieu,  "does 
not  bring  him  nearer  to  ruin,  than  indifference  to  the 
public  good  brings  a  republic.  The  advantage  of  a  free 
state  is  that  the  revenues  are  better  administered  —  but 
how  if  they  are  worse?  The  advantage  of  a  free  state 
is  that  there  are  no  favorites;  but  when  that  is  not  the 
case,  and  when  instead  of  enriching  the  prince's  friends 
and  relations,  all  the  friends  and  relations  of  all  those 
who  share  in  the  government  have  to  be  enriched,  all  is 
lost;  the  laws  are  evaded  more  dangerously  than  they 
are  violated  by  a  prince,  who,  being  always  the  greatest 
citizen  of  a  state,  has  the  most  interest  in  its  preserva- 
tion."! 

Kings,  as  Montesquieu  points  out,  are  less  envied  than 
aristocracies;  for  the  king  is  too  far  above  most  of  his 
subjects  to  excite  comparisons,  while  the  nobility  is  not 
so  placed.  Eepublics,  where  birth  confers  no  privileges, 
are,  he  thinks,  happier  in  this  respect  than  other  coun- 
tries; for  the  people  can  enyj  but  little  an  authority 
which  it  grants  and  withdraws  at  its  pleasure.  Montes- 
quieu forgets  that  every  chance  to  rise  which  excites  in 
the  strong  and  virtuous  a  noble  emulation,  will  cause  in 
the  weak  and  sour  the  corresponding  base  passion  of  envy. 
Complete  despotism  he  believes  to  be  impossible.  There 
is  in  every  nation  a  general  spirit  on  which  all  power  is 
founded.  Against  this,  the  ruler  is  powerless.  It  is  wise 
not  to  disturb  established  forms  and  institutions,  for  the 
very  causes  which  have  made  them  last  hitherto  may 
maintain  them  in  the  future,  and  these  causes  are  often 
complicated  and  unknown.  When  the  system  is  changed, 
theoretic  difficulties  may  be  overcome,  but  drawbacks 
remain  which  only  use  can  show.     It  is  folly  in  conquer- 

^  Montesq.,  ii.  139. 


140     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

ors  to  wish  to  make  the  conquered  adopt  new  laws  and 
customs,  and  it  is  useless ;  for  under  any  form  of  govern- 
ment, subjects  can  obey.  Men  are  never  more  offended 
than  when  their  ceremonies  and  customs  are  interfered 
with.  Oppression  is  sometimes  a  proof  of  the  esteem  in 
which  they  are  held ;  interference  with  their  customs  is 
always  a  mark  of  contempt.^ 

Such  are  some  of  the  general  opinions  of  Montesquieu, 
found  in  the  "Greatness  and  Decadence  of  the  Romans.'^ 
In  the  same  book  occurs  the  expression  of  an  idea  (after- 
wards repeated  and  worked  out),  which  was  to  be  perhaps 
the  most  fruitful  of  his  teachings.  "The  laws  of  Eome," 
he  says,  "had  wisely  divided  the  public  power  among  a 
great  number  of  offices,  which  sustained,  arrested,  and 
moderated  each  other;  and  as  each  had  but  a  limited 
power,  every  citizen  was  capable  of  attaining  to  any  one 
of  them;  and  the  people,  seeing  several  persons  pass 
before  it  one  after  the  other,  became  accustomed  to  none 
of  them."  2 

This  idea  that  the  division  of  power  was  highly  desira- 
ble, that  a  system  of  checks  and  balances  in  government 
would  tend  to  secure  freedom,  never  took  firm  root  in 
France.  Indeed,  Montesquieu,  as  he  himself  had  partly 
foreseen,  was  more  praised  than  read  in  his  own  country.^ 
But  in  the  distant  colonies  of  America  the  "  Greatness 
and  Decadence  of  the  Romans"  and  the  "Spirit  of  the 
Laws  "  found  eager  students.  The  thoughts  of  Montes- 
quieu were  embodied  in  the  constitutions  of  new  states, 
whose  social  and  economic  condition  was  not  far  removed 
from  that  which  he  considered  the  most  desirable.  In 
these  states  the  doctrine  of  the  division  of  powers  was 
consciously  and  carefully  adopted,  with  the  most  benefi- 
cent results.     This  division  was  not  a  new  idea  to  the 

1  Montesq.,  ii.  181,  315,  316,  266,  174,  209. 

2  Ibid.,  ii.  200. 

8  Ibid.,  vii.  157  {Pensees  diverses.     Portrait  de  M  par  Ini-meme). 


MONTESQUIEU.  141 

American  colonists:  it  was  already  in  a  measure  a  part  of 
their  institutions.  But  there  can  be  little  doubt  that  the 
idea  was  enforced  in  their  minds  by  being  clearly  stated 
by  one  of  the  writers  on  political  subjects  whom  they  most 
admired.^ 

Fourteen  years  had  passed  from  the  time  of  the  publi- 
cation of  the  "Greatness  and  Decadence  of  the  Komans,"' 
when  in  1748  appeared  the  great  work  of  Montesquieu, 
the  ''Spirit  of  the  Laws."  The  book  is  announced  by  its 
author  as  something  entirely  original,  "a  child  without 
a  mother."  ^  Nor  is  the  claim  altogether  unfounded, 
although  any  reader  familiar  with  the  "Politics"  of  Aris- 
totle can  hardly  fail  to  observe  the  resemblance  between 
that  o:reat  book  and  the  other.  Nor  is  it  a  detraction  from 
the  genius  of  Montesquieu  to  say  that  the  comparison  will 
not  be  altogether  in  his  favor. 

Montesquieu's  scheme  is  announced  in  the  title  origi- 
nally given  to  his  book.  "  Of  the  Spirit  of  the  Laws,  or 
of  the  relation  which  the  laws  should  have  to  the  con- 
stitution of  every  government,  manners,  climate,  religion, 
commerce,  etc.  To  which  the  author  has  added  new 
researches  into  the  Roman  laws  concerning  inheritance, 
into  French  laws,  and  into  feudal  laws."  Thus  we  see 
that  the  principal  subject  of  the  book  is  the  relation  of 
laws  to  the  circumstances  of  the  country  in  which  they 
exist.  In  this  also  is  its  chief  value  and  its  claim  to 
originality.  The  Philosophers  of  the  eighteenth  century, 
following  the  example  of  the  churches,  believed  that  there 

1  We  have  seen  that  Montesquieu  had  arrived  at  this  idea  from 
the  study  of  the  English  Constitution  as  it  existed  in  his  day.  In 
respect  to  the  division  of  powers,  the  government  of  the  United 
States  conforms  far  more  nearly  to  his  idea  than  does  the  present 
government  of  f^ngland,  in  which  the  system  of  balanced  powers  has 
been  superseded  by  that  of  government  by  the  Lower  Chamber,  of 
which  he  pointed  out  the  danger.  The  full  results  of  this  change 
will  be  known  only  to  future  generations. 

'^  Prolem  sine  matre  creatam^  on  the  title-page. 


142     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

was  an  absolute  standard  of  justice  to  which  all  laws  could 
easily  be  referred,  independently  of  the  country  in  which 
the  laws  existed.  If  the  laws  of  Naples  differed  from 
those  of  Prussia,  the  laws  which  governed  the  phlegmatic 
Dutchman  from  those  which  contained  the  excitable  in- 
habitant of  Marseilles,  one  or  the  other  set  of  laws,  or 
both  of  them,  must  be  wrong.  The  Civil  Law  of  the 
Latin  races,  the  Common  Law  of  England,  each  claimed 
to  be  the  expression  of  perfect  abstract  reason.  The 
church  with  its  canon,  the  same  for  all  races  and  climates, 
confirmed  the  theory.  To  all  these  came  Montesquieu 
with  a  teaching  that  would  reconcile  their  claims. 

"  Law  in  general  is  human  reason,  in  so  far  as  it  gov- 
erns all  the  nations  of  the  earth ;  and  the  political  and 
civil  laws  of  each  nation  should  be  but  the  particular  cases 
to  which  that  human  reason  is  applied." 

"They  should  be  so  adapted  to  the  people  for  whom 
they  are  made,  that  it  is  a  very  great  chance  if  those  of 
one  nation  will  apply  to  another." 

"They  must  be  in  relation  to  the  nature  and  the  prin- 
ciple of  the  government  which  is  established,  or  about  to 
be  established ;  whether  they  form  it,  as  do  political  laws ; 
or  maintain  it,  as  do  civil  laws." 

"They  must  be  in  relation  to  the  iihyucal  nature  of 
the  country;  to  the  frozen,  burning,  or  temperate  cli- 
mate; to  the  quality  of  the  soil,  the  situation  and  size 
of  the  country;  to  the  style  of  life  of  the  people,  as 
farmers,  hunters,  or  shepherds;  they  should  be  in  rela- 
tion to  the  amount  of  liberty  which  the  constitution  may 
allow,  to  the  religion  of  the  inhabitants,  their  inclina- 
tions, their  wealth,  their  numbers,  their  customs,  their 
morals,  and  their  manners.  Finally,  they  have  relations 
to  each  other;  they  have  them  to  their  own  origin,  to 
the  object  of  the  legislator,  to  the  order  of  things  on 
which  they  are  established.  They  should  be  considered 
from  all  these  points  of  view." 


MONTESQUIEU.  143 

"This  is  what  I  undertake  to  do  in  this  work.  I  will 
examine  all  these  relations.  They  form  together  what  is 
called  'the  Spirit  of  the  Laws.'  "^ 

It  will  be  noticed  that  Montesquieu  by  no  means  denies 
that  there  are  general  principles  of  justice.  On  the  con- 
trary, he  positively  asserts  it.^  But  the  great  value  of 
his  teaching  consists  in  the  other  lesson.  "It  is  better  to 
say  that  the  government  most  in  conformity  with  nature 
is  that  whose  particular  disposition  is  most  in  relation 
to  the  disposition  of  the  people  for  which  it  is  estab- 
lished." This  principle  may  certainly  be  deduced  from 
Aristotle ;  but  it  was  none  the  less  necessary  to  teach  it 
in  the  eighteenth  century;  it  is  none  the  less  necessary  to 
teach  it  to-day. ^ 

The  conception  was  a  great  one,  so  simple  that  it  seems 
impossible  that  it  could  ever  have  been  missed ;  but  it  was 
combated  with  violence  on  its  announcement,  and  many 
brilliant  and  learned  men  have  failed  to  grasp  it.*  Such 
are  the  persons  in  our  own  time  who  praise  despotism  in 
France,  or  who  would  set  up  parliamentary  government  in 
India.  Montesquieu  probably  carried  his  theories  too 
far.  To  the  north  he  assigned  energy  and  valor,  as  if 
the  most  widely  conquering  nations  that  Europe  had  then 
known  had  been  the  Norwegian  and  the  Finn,  instead  of 
the  Macedonian,  the  Italian,  and  the  Spaniard.  Steril- 
ity of  soil  he  considered  favorable  to  republics,  fertility  to 
monarchies.  It  was  natural  that  a  man  in  revolt  against 
the  long  spiritual  tyranny  that  had  oppressed  thought  in 
Europe  should  have  attributed  excessive  importance  to 
material  causes.  Not  the  less  did  the  idea  contain  its 
share  of  truth.  Nor  was  his  statement  of  this,  which  we 
may  call  his  favorite  theory,  always  excessive.     "Several 

1  Montesq.,  iii.  99  (liv.  i.  c.  3). 

2  Ibid.,  iii.  91  (liv.  i.  c.  1). 

2  Ibid.,  iii.  99  ;  Aristotle,  Politics,  liv.  vii.  c.  ii. 
*  Montesq.,  iv.  145  n. 


144     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

things,"  he  says,  "govern  man;  climate,  religion,  laws, 
the  maxims  of  government,  the  examples  of  things  past, 
morals,  manners;  whence  comes  a  general  spirit  which 
is  their  result.  "  Sometimes  one  of  these  forces  dominates 
and  sometimes  another."  ^ 

It  may  be  noted  of  Montesquieu,  and  as  often  of  Vol= 
taire,  that  each  of  them  is  constantly  led  astray  by  imper«> 
feet  knowledge  of  foreign,  and  especially  of  barbarous  and 
savage  nations.  Since  the  voyages  and  conquests  of  the 
Eenaissance,  accounts  of  strange  countries  had  abounded 
in  Europe,  written  in  many  cases  by  men  anything  but 
accurate,  if  not,  in  the  words  of  Macaulay,  "liars  by  a 
double  right,  as  travellers  and  as  Jesuits."  ^  The  writers 
of  a  hundred  and  fifty  years  ago  coyld  use  no  better 
material  than  was  to  be  had.  They  wished  to  draw  in- 
struction from  distant  objects,  and  their  spy-glasses  dis- 
torted shapes  and  modified  colors.  Imperfect  knowledge 
of  foreign  countries  sometimes  led  Montesquieu  into  curi- 
ous mistakes ;  yet  these  affected  his  illustrations  oftener 
than  his  theories. 

Having  stated  his  general  doctrine,  Montesquieu  pro- 
ceeds to  apply  it.  As  laws  should  be  adapted  to  the 
nature  of  the  government  of  each  country,  it  is  essential 
to  study  that  nature,  and  to  consider  what  is  the  j)rinci- 
ple^  or  motive  force  of  each  form  of  government.  "There 
is  this  difference,"  he  says,  "between  the  nature  of  the 
government  and  its  principle:  that  its  nature  is  what 
makes  it  such  as  it  is,  and  its  principle  what  makes  it 
act.  One  is  its  especial  structure,  and  the  other  the 
human  passions  which  cause  it  to  operate."  ^ 

Four  kinds  of  government  are  recognized  by  Montes- 
quieu :  democratic,  aristocratic,  monarchical,  and  despotic. 
The  principle  of  democracy  he  holds  to  be  virtue,  without 

1  Montesq.,  iv.  307  (liv.  xix.  c.  4). 

2  Essay  on  Machiavelli. 

3  Moiitesq.,  iii.  120  (liv.  iii.  c.  1). 


MONTESQUIEU.  145 

which  popular  government  cannot  continue  to  exist. ^  An 
aristocratic  state  needs  less  virtue,  because  the  people  is 
kept  in  check  by  the  nobles.  But  the  nobility  can  with 
difficulty  repress  the  members  of  their  own  order,  and  do 
justice  for  their  crimes.  In  default  of  great  virtue,  how- 
ever, an  aristocratic  state  can  exist  if  the  ruling  class  will 
practice  moderation.'^  In  monarchies  great  things  can  be 
done  with  little  virtue,  for  in  them  there  is  another  moving 
principle,  which  is  honor.^  This  sort  of  government  is 
founded  on  the  prejudice  of  each  person  and  each  sort  of 
men;  it  rests  on  ranks,  preferences,  and  distinctions,  so 
that  emulation  often  supplies  the  place  of  virtue.  In 
a  monarchy  there  will  be  many  tolerable  citizens,  but  sel- 
dom a  very  good  nian,  who  loves  the  state  better  than  him- 
self. The  motive  principle  of  a  despotism  i^fear  ;  ^  for  in 
despotic  states  virtue  is  unnecessary,  and  honor  would  be 
dangerous.  These  qualities  of  virtue,  honor,  and  fear, 
may  not  exist  in  every  republic,  monarchy,  and  despotism ; 
but  they  should  do  so,  if  the  government  is  to  be  perfect 
of  its  kind.^ 

It  is  worth  while  to  remember,  when  considering  the 
"Spirit  of  the  Laws,"  that  Montesquieu  oftenest  had  in 
his  mind,  when  speaking  of  democratic  republics,  those  of 
Greece;  when  speaking  of  aristocratic  republics,  early 
Rome  and  Venice ;  of  monarchies,  France  and  England ; 
of  despotisms,  the  East.^ 

Under  each  form  of  government,  education  and  the 
laws  should  work  together  to  strengthen  the  motive  prin- 
ciple belonging  to  that  form.  Especially  is  this  neces- 
sary in  republics,  for  honor,  which  sustains  monarchies,  is 

1  Montesq.,  iii.  122  (liv.  iii.  c.  3).  ^  ibid.,  iii.  126  (liv.  c.  4). 

8  Ibid.,  iii.  128  (liv.  iii.  c.  5,  6,  and  7). 

*  Ibid.,  iii.  135  (liv.  iii.  c.  9).  «  Ibid.,  iii.  140  (liv.  iii.  c.  11). 

^  But  be  sometimes  refers  to  England  as  a  country  where  a  repub- 
lic is  hidden  under  the  forms  of  a  monarchy.  Montesq.,  iii.  21G  (liv. 
V.  c.  19). 


146     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

favored  by  the  passions;  but  virtue,  on  which  democra- 
cies depend,  imj^lies  renunciation  of  self.  Virtue,  in  a 
rej)ublic,  is  love  of  the  republic  itself,  which  leads  to 
good  morals ;  the  public  good  is  set  above  private  gratifi- 
cation. Thus  we  see  that  monks  love  their  order  the 
more,  the  more  austere  is  its  rule.  The  love  of  the  state, 
in  a  democracy,  becomes  the  love  of  equality,  and  thus 
limits  ambition  to  the  desire  to  render  great  services  to 
the  republic.  The  love  of  equality  and  frugality  are 
principally  excited  by  equality  and  frugality  themselves, 
when  both  are  established  by  law.  The  laws  of  a  demo- 
cratic state  should  encourage  equality  in  every  way ;  as 
by  forbidding  last  wills,  and  preventing  the  acquisition  of 
large  landed  estates.  In  a  democracy  all  men  contract 
an  enormous  debt  to  the  state  at  their  birth,  and,  do  what 
they  may,  they  can  never  repay  it.  There  should  be  no 
great  wealth  in  the  hands  of  private  persons,  because  such 
wealth  confers  power  and  furnishes  delights  which  are 
contrary  to  equality.  Domestic  frugality  should  make 
public  expenditure  possible.  Even  talents  should  be  but 
moderate.  But  if  a  democratic  republic  be  founded  on 
commerce,  individuals  may  safely  possess  great  riches; 
for  the  spirit  of  commerce  brings  with  it  that  of  frugality, 
economy,  moderation,  labor,  wisdom,  tranquillity,  and 
order. 

It  is  very  important  in  a  democracy  to  keep  old  laws 
and  customs;  for  things  tend  to  degenerate,  and  a  cor- 
rupted nation  seldom  does  anything  great.  To  maintain 
an  aristocratic  republic,  moderation  is  necessary.  The 
nobles  should  be  simple  in  their  lives  and  hardly  distin- 
guishable from  plebeians.  Distinctions  offensive  to  pride, 
such  as  laws  forbidding  intermarriage,  are  to  be  avoided. 
Privileges  should  belong  to  the  senate  as  a  body  and  sim- 
ple respect  only  be  paid  to  the  individual  senators.^ 

1  Montesq.,  iii.  151  (liv.  iv.  c.  5).  Ibid.,  iii.  165-183  (liv.  v.  c. 
2-8). 


MONTESQUIEU.  147 

As  honor  is  the  motive  principle  of  monarchy,  the  laws 
should  support  it,  and  be  adapted  to  sustain  that  nobility 
which  is  the  parent  and  the  child  of  honor.  Nobility 
must  be  hereditary ;  it  must  have  prerogatives  and  rights ; 
it  forms  the  link  between  the  prince  and  the  nation. 
Monarchical  government  has  the  great  advantage  over  the 
republican  form,  that,  as  affairs  are  in  a  single  hand, 
there  is  the  greater  promptitude  of  execution.  But  there 
should  still  be  something  to  moderate  the  will  of  the 
prince.  This  is  best  found,  not  in  the  nobility  itself,  but 
in  such  bodies  as  courts  of  law  with  constitutional  rights, 
like  the  French  Parliaments.  ^ 

Montesquieu  has  been  much  blamed,  both  in  his  own 
age  and  since,  for  his  partiality  to  the  monarchy  as  he 
found  it  existing  in  France.  While  recognizing  that  a 
republic  was  a  more  just  and  equal  form  of  government, 
he  thought  that  monarchy  was  that  best  suited  to  his 
time  and  country.  Many  people  who  have  watched  the 
history  of  France  since  his  day  will  be  found  to  agree 
with  him.  While  defending  some  practices  which  are 
now  considered  among  the  flagrant  abuses  of  old  France, 
he  recommended  some  reforms  which  would  have  been 
very  salutary.  It  is  often  wiser  to  find  excuses  for  retain- 
ing an  old  custom  than  reasons  for  introducing  a  new  one ; 
and  Montesquieu  was  a  conservative,  made  so  by  his 
nature,  his  social  position,  his  wealth,  his  education  as  a 
lawyer,  his  age  and  his  experience.  When  he  wrote  the 
"Persian  Letters  "  he  might  possibly  have  been  willing  to 
overthrow  the  principal  institutions  of  his  country  for  the 
sake  of  remedying  abuses ;  but  when  he  had  spent  twenty 
years  over  the  "Spirit  of  the  Laws,"  when  he  had  realized 
the  complication  of  life,  and  the  interdependence  of  things, 
he  was  more  ready  to  reform  than  to  destroy. 

In  a  despotic  government  the  motive  principle  is  fear. 
The  governor  of  the  town  must  be  absolutely  responsible 
1  Montesq.,  iii.  191  (liv.  v.  c.  10). 


148     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

to  the  governor  of  the  province,  or  the  latter  cannot  be 
entirely  responsible  to  the  sovereign.  Thus  absolutism 
extends  throughout  the  state.  As  there  is  no  law  but 
the  will  of  the  prince,  and  as  that  law  cannot  be  known 
in  detail  to  every  one,  there  must  be  a  great  number  of 
petty  tyrants  dependent  on  those  immediately  above 
them.^ 

After  a  not  very  successful  attempt  to  define  liberty, 
which  he  decides  to  be  the  power  to  do  that  which  we 
ought  to  desire  and  not  to  do  that  which  we  ought  not  to 
desire, 2  Montesquieu  tells  us  that  political  liberty  is  found 
only  in  limited  governments,  for  all  men  who  have  power 
will  tend  to  abuse  it,  and  will  go  on  until  they  meet  with 
obstacles ;  as  virtue  itself  needs  to  be  restrained.  Various 
nations,  he  then  says,  have  various  objects :  conquest  was 
that  of  Rome,  war  of  Sparta,  commerce  of  Marseilles; 
there  is  a  country  the  direct  object  of  whose  constitution 
is  political  liberty.     That  country  is  England.^ 

There  are  in  every  state  three  kinds  of  power,  the  legis- 
lative, the  executive,  and  the  judicial.  Political  liberty 
in  a  citizen  is  the  tranquillity  of  mind  which  comes  from 
the  opinion  he  has  of  his  own  security;  and  to  give  him 
this  liberty  the  government  must  be  such  that  no  citizen 
can  be  afraid  of  another.  Now  this  security  can  exist 
only  where  the  legislative,  executive,  and  judicial  powers 
are  in  different  hands.  In  most  of  the  monarchies  of  Eu- 
rope the  goverment  is  limited,  because  the  prince,  who 
has  the  first  two  powers,  leaves  the  third  to  others ;  he 
makes  laws  and  executes  them,  but  he  appoints  other  men 
to  act  as  judges  in  his  place.  In  the  republics  of  Italy  all 
three  powers  are  united.     The  same  body  of  magistrates 

1  Montesq.,  iii.  209  (Uv.  v.  c.  16). 

2  Ibid.,  iv.  2-4  (liv.  xi.  c.  2,  3). 

8  Montesquieu,  here  and  elsewhere,  avoids  mentioning  England 
or  France  by  name  ;  a  curious  affectation.  The  references,  however, 
are  unmistakable. 


MONTESQUIEU.  149 

makes  the  laws,  executes  them,  and  judges  every  citizen 
according  to  its  pleasure ;  such  a  body  is  as  despotic  as  an 
eastern  prince.^  The  judicial  power,  says  Montesquieu 
(with  the  English  jury  in  his  mind),  should  not  be  given 
to  a  permanent  senate,  but  exercised  by  persons  drawn 
from  the  body  of  the  people,  forming  a  tribunal  which 
lasts  only  as  long  as  necessity  may  require  it.  In  serious 
cases  the  criminal  should  combine  with  the  law  to  choose 
his  judges,  or  at  least  should  have  a  right  of  challenge. 
The  legislative  and  executive  powers  can  with  less  danger 
be  given  to  permanent  bodies,  because  they  are  not  exer- 
cised against  individuals.  He  then  commends  representa- 
tive frovernment  and  the  freedom  left  to  members  of  Par- 
liament  in  the  English  system.  He  believes  the  people 
more  capable  of  choosing  representatives  wisely  than  of 
deciding  questions,  an  opinion  on  which  modern  experi- 
ence may  have  thrown  some  doubt.  He  approves  of  the 
existence  of  a  second  chamber,  composed  of  persons  distin- 
guished by  birth,  wealth,  or  honors;  for  if  such  were 
mixed  with  the  people  and  given  only  one  vote  apiece  like 
the  others,  the  common  liberty  would  be  their  slavery, 
and  they  would  have  no  interest  in  defending  it,  because 
it  would  oftenest  be  turned  against  themselves. ^ 

The  government  of  France,  says  Montesquieu,  has  not, 
like  that  of  England,  liberty  for  its  direct  object;  it  tends 
only  to  the  glory  of  the  citizen,  the  state,  and  the  prince. 
But  from  this  glory  comes  a  spirit  of  liberty,  which  in 
France  can  do  great  things,  and  can  contribute  as  much 
to  happiness  as  liberty  itself.  The  three  powers  are  not 
there  distributed  as  in  England ;  but  they  have  a  distri- 
bution of  their  own,  according  to  which  they  approach 
more  or  less  to  political  liberty;  and  if   they  did  not 

^  This  judgment  is  somewhat  softened  as  to  Venice.  The  most 
conspicuous  example  in  modern  times  of  the  tyranny  of  a  single 
popular  body  is  that  of  France  under  the  Convention. 

2  Montesq.,  iv.  7  (liv.  xi.  c.  63. 


150     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

approach  it,  the  monarchy  would  degenerate  into  des- 
potism.^ This  sounds  somewhat  like  an  empty  phrase; 
yet  there  undoubtedly  were  in  Montesquieu's  time  some 
checks  on  the  absolutism  of  a  French  monarch.  "If  sub- 
jects owe  obedience  to  kings,  kings  on  their  part  owe 
obedience  to  the  laws,"  said  the  Parliament  of  Paris  in 
1753.  And  outside  of  its  own  boundaries  France  had 
long  been  considered  a  limited  monarchy. ^  Apart  from 
the  limitations  imposed  by  the  privileges  of  the  church 
and  of  the  Parliaments,  there  appear  to  have  been  some 
acknowledged  fundamental  laws  (the  succession  of  the 
crown  in  the  male  line  was  one  of  them)  which  it  would 
have  been  beyond  the  power  of  the  sovereign  for  the  time 
being  to  destroy.  And  public  opinion,  as  Montesquieu 
has  already  told  us,  has  power  even  in  the  most  despotic 
countries.  In  a  European  nation,  not  broken  in  spirit 
by  long-continued  tyranny,  and  possessing  the  printing- 
press,  this  power  must  always  be  very  great. 

As  for  Montesquieu's  admiration  of  the  English  form 
of  government,  it  doubtless  concurred  with  other  causes 
to  encourage  on  the  Continent  the  study  of  English  polit- 
ical methods.  Those  methods  have  since  been  adopted 
by  many  continental  states,  with  hardly  as  many  modifi- 
cations to  adapt  them  to  local  circumstances  as  might  have 
been  desirable.  But  it  is  the  modern  English  constitu- 
tion, in  which  power  lies  almost  entirely  in  the  House 
of  Commons,  and  is  exercised  by  its  officers,  that  has 
been  thus  copied.  In  America  the  principle  of  the  divi- 
sion of  powers  has  been  carried  farther  than  it  ever  was 
in  England;  and  is,  of  all  parts  of  their  form  of  govern- 
ment, that  from  which  many  intelligent  Americans  would 
be  most  loath  to  part. 

We  have  seen  enough  of  Montesquieu's  attacks  on  the 

1  Montesq'.,  iv.  24.  (liv.  xi.  c.  7). 

2  Rocquain,  170.  Machiavelli,  ii.  140,  215,  322  (Discourses  on  the 
Jirst  ten  looks  of  Livy). 


MONTESQUIEU.  151 

church.  The  most  violent  of  them  were  made  in  his 
youth,  and  in  a  book  avowedly  satirical.  In  mature  life, 
writing  in  a  more  philosophical  spirit,  his  language  is 
temperate  and  wise.  "It  is  bad  reasoning  against  reli- 
gion," he  says,  "to  bring  together  in  a  great  work  a  long 
enumeration  of  the  evils  which  she  has  produced,  unless 
you  also  recount  the  good  she  has  done.  If  I  shoidd  teU 
all  the  harm  which  civil  laws,  monarchy,  or  republican 
government  have  done  in  the  world,  I  should  say  frightful 
things."  1  This  idea  was  far  beyond  the  reach  of  Voltaire. 
Montesquieu  goes  on  to  argue  about  different  forms  of 
religion.  Mahometanism  he  holds  especially  suited  to 
despotism,  Christianity  to  limited  governments.  Cathol- 
icism is  adapted  to  monarchies,  Protestantism,  and  espe- 
cially Calvinism,  to  republics.  Where  fatalism  is  a  re- 
ligious dogma,  the  penalties  imposed  by  law  must  be 
more  severe,  and  the  watch  kept  on  the  commmiity  more 
vigilant,  so  that  men  may  be  driven  by  these  motives 
who  otherwise  would  abandon  self-restraint;  but  if  the 
dogma  of  liberty  be  established,  the  case  is  otherwise. 
Climate  is  not  without  influence  on  religion.  The  ablu- 
tions required  of  a  Mahometan  are  useful  in  his  warm 
country.  The  Protestant  of  Northern  Europe  has  to 
work  harder  for  a  living  than  the  Catholic  of  the  South, 
and  therefore  desires  fewer  religious  holidays.  If  a  state 
can  prevent  the  establishment  of  a  new  form  of  religion 
within  its  borders,  it  will  find  it  well  to  do  so;  but  if 
several  religions  are  established,  they  should  not  be 
allowed  to  interfere  with  each  other.  Penal  laws  in  reli- 
gious matters  should  be  avoided ;  for  each  religion  has  its 
own  spiritual  penalties,  and  to  put  a  man  between  the  fear 
of  temporal  punishment,  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  fear  of 
spiritual  punishment  on  the  other,  degrades  his  soul.  The 
possessions  of  the  clergy  should  be  limited  by  laws  of 
mortmain.^ 

1  Montesq.,  v.  117  (liv.  xxiv.  c.  2). 

2  Ibid.,  V.  124-136  (liv.  xxiv.  c.  5-14). 


152     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

The  spirit  of  moderation  should  be  the  spirit  of  the 
legislator.  This  Montesquieu  declared  to  be  the  great 
theme  of  his  book.  Political  good,  like  moral  good,  is 
always  found  between  extremes.^ 

It  was  this  moderation  which  made  the  "  Spirit  of  the 
Laws  "  distasteful  to  the  more  ardent  Philosophers.  Shar- 
ing in  many  of  the  feelings  of  his  contemporaries,  and 
especially  in  their  distrust  of  the  church,  Montesquieu 
was  yet  unwilling  to  go  to  the  same  extremes  as  they. 
His  chapter  on  Uniformity  and  the  criticisms  made  on  it 
by  Condorcet,  form  an  admirable  instance  of  this. 

"There  are  certain  ideas  of  uniformity,"  says  Montes- 
quieu, "which  sometimes  take  possession  of  great  minds 
(for  they  touched  Charlemagne),  but  which  invariably 
strike  small  ones.  These  find  in  them  a  kind  of  perfec- 
tion which  they  recognize,  because  it  is  impossible  not  to 
see  it;  the  same  weights  in  matters  of  police,  the  same 
measures  in  commerce,  the  same  laws  in  the  state,  the  same 
religion  in  all  its  parts.  But  is  this  always  desirable  with- 
out exceptions?  Is  the  evil  of  changing  always  less  than 
the  evil  of  suffering?  And  would  not  the  greatness  of 
genius  rather  consist  in  knowing  in  what  case  uniformity 
is  necessary,  and  in  what  case  difference?  In  China,  the 
Chinese  are  governed  by  the  Chinese  ceremonies,  and  the 
Tartars  by  Tartar  ceremonies ;  yet  this  is  the  nation  in  aU 
the  world  which  is  most  devoted  to  tranquillity.  So  long 
as  the  citizens  obey  the  law,  what  matters  it  that  they 
shall  all  obey  the  same?  " 

This  chapter  (the  whole  of  it  is  given  above,  and  it  may 
pass  in  the  "Spirit  of  the  Laws"  for  one  of  middling 
length),  is,  according  to  Condorcet,  "  one  of  those  which 
have  acquired  for  Montesquieu  the  indulgence  of  all  preju- 
diced people,  of  all  who  hate  intellectual  light ;  of  all  pro- 
tectors of  abuses,  etc."  And  after  going  on  with  his  invec- 
tive for  some  time,  Condorcet  states  the  substance  of  his 
1  Montesq.,  v.  379  (liv.  xxix.  c.  1). 


MONTESQUIEU.  153 

argument  as  follows:  "As  truth,  reason,  justice,  the 
rights  of  men,  the  interest  of  property,  of  liberty,  of 
security,  are  the  same  everywhere,  we  do  not  see  why  all 
the  provinces  of  one  state,  or  even  why  all  states  should 
not  have  the  same  criminal  laws,  the  same  civil  laws,  the 
same  laws  of  commerce,  etc.  A  good  law  must  be  good 
for  all  men,  as  a  true  proposition  is  true  for  all.  The 
laws  which  appear  as  if  they  should  be  different  for  differ- 
ent countries,  either  pronounce  on  objects  which  should 
not  be  regulated  by  laws,  like  most  commercial  regula- 
tions, or  are  founded  on  prejudices  and  habits  which 
should  be  uprooted ;  and  one  of  the  best  means  of  destroy- 
ing them  is  to  cease  to  sustain  them  by  laws."  ^ 

In  these  two  passages  we  have  the  issue  between  Mon- 
tesquieu and  the  Philosophic  party  fairly  joined.  He 
alone  of  the  great  Frenchmen  of  his  century  recognized 
the  enormous  complication  of  human  life  and  human 
affairs.  Not  denying  that  there  are  fundamental  princi- 
ples of  justice,  he  saw  that  those  principles  are  hard  to 
formulate  truly,  harder  to  apply  wisely.  For  their  appli- 
cation he  offered  many  valuable  suggestions.  These  were 
lost  in  the  rush  and  hurry  of  approaching  revolution. 
The  superb  simplicity  of  mind  which  could  ignore  the 
diversities  of  human  nature  was  perhaps  necessary  for 
the  uprootino-  of  old  abuses.  But  the  delicate  task  of 
constructing  a  permanent  government  cannot  succeed 
unless  the  differences  as  well  as  the  resemblances  among 
men  be  taken  into  account. 

1  Montesq.,  v.  412  (liv.  xxix.  c.  18).  Condorcet,  i.  377.  Yet  Con- 
dorcet  speaks  elsewhere  of  Montesquieu  as  having  made  a  revolution 
in  men's  minds  on  the  subject  of  law.  D'Alerabert,  i.  64  (Condorcet's 
Eloge  de  d'Alemhert).  Rousseau  also  teaches  that  all  laws  and  institu- 
tions are  not  adapted  to  all  nations,  but  it  is  because  he  considers 
most  nations  childish  or  effete. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

PARIS. 

The  members  of  the  Third  Estate  differed  among  them- 
selves  far  more  than  did  those  of  the  Clergy  or  the  No- 
bility. This  order  comprised  the  rich  banker  and  the 
beggar  at  his  gate,  the  learned  encyclopaedist  and  the 
water-carrier  that  could  not  spell  his  name.  Every  lay- 
man, not  of  noble  blood,  belonged  tt)  the  Third  Estate. 
And  although  this  was  the  unprivileged  order,  there  were 
privileged  bodies  and  privileged  persons  within  it.  Cor- 
porations, guilds,  cities,  and  whole  provinces  possessed 
rights  distinct  from  those  of  the  rest  of  the  country. 

In  the  reign  of  Louis  XVI.  the  city  of  Paris  held  a 
position  in  the  world  even  more  prominent  than  that 
which  it  holds  to-day.  For  France  was  then  incontesta- 
bly  the  first  European  power,  and  Paris  was  then,  as  it  is 
now,  not  only  the  capital  and  the  metropolis,  but  the 
heart  and  centre  of  life  in  France.  The  population  was 
variously  estimated  at  from  six  to  nine  hundred  thousand. 
The  city  was  growing  in  size,  and  new  houses  were  contin- 
ually erected.  There  was  so  much  building  at  times  dur- 
ing this  reign,  that  masons  worked  at  night,  receiving 
double  wages.  Architects  and  master  masons  were  be- 
coming rich,  and  rents  were  high  when  compared  to  those 
of  other  places.  Strangers  and  provincials  flocked  to 
Paris  for  the  winter  and  returned  to  the  country  during 
the  fine  season.  Sentimentalists  read  the  works  of  Rous- 
seau and  praised  a  country  life,  but  then  as  now  few  peo- 


PARIS. 


155 


pie  that  could  afford  to  stay  in  the  city,  and  had  once 
been  caught  by  its  fascination,  cared  to  live  permanently 
out  of  town.^ 

The  public  buildings  and  gardens  were  worthy  of  the 
first  city  in  Europe.  With  some  of  them  travelers  of 
to-day  are  familiar.  The  larger  number  of  the  remark- 
able churches  now  standing  were  in  existence  before  the 
Revolution.  Of  the  palaces  then  in  the  city,  the  three 
most  famous  have  met  with  varied  fates.  The  Luxem- 
bourg, which  was  the  residence  of  the  king's  eldest 
brother,  is  the  least  changed.  To  the  building  itseK  but 
small  additions  have  been  made.  Its  garden  was  and  is 
a  quiet,  orderly  place  where  respectable  family  groups  sit 
about  in  the  shade.  The  Louvre  has  been  much  enlarged. 
Under  Louis  XVI.  it  consisted  of  the  buildings  surround- 
ing the  eastern  court,  of  a  wing  extending  toward  the 
river  (the  gallery  of  Apollo),  and  of  a  long  gallery,  since 
rebuilt,  running  near  the  river  bank  and  connecting  this 
older  palace  with  the  Tuileries.  About  one-half  of  the 
space  now  enclosed  between  the  two  sides  of  the  enormous 
edifice,  and  known  as  the  Place  du  Carrousel,  was  then 
covered  with  houses  and  streets.  The  land  immediately 
to  the  east  of  the  Tuileries  palace  was  not  built  upon,  but 
part  of  it  was  enclosed  by  a  tail  iron  railing.  Such  a 
railing,  either  the  original  one  or  its  successor,  was  to  be 
seen  in  the  same  place  until  recent  times  and  may  be 
standing  to-day.  The  Place  du  Carrousel,  as  it  then  ex- 
isted outside  of  this  railing,  was  a  square  of  moderate  size 
surrounded  by  houses. 

The  Palace  of  the  Tuileries  itself  has  had  an  eventful 
history  since  Louis  XVI.  came  to  the  throne,  and  has 
only  in  recent  years  been  utterly  swept  from  the  ground. 
But  the  gardens  which  bear  its  name  are  little  changed. 
The  long  raised  terraces  ran  along  their  sides  then  as 
now;  although  there  was  no  Rue  de  Rivoli,  and  the  only 
1  Mercier,  iv.  205,  vii.  190.     Babeau,  Paris  en  1789,  27. 


156     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

access  to  the  gardens  on  the  north  side  was  by  two  or 
three  streets  or  lanes  from  the  Rue  Saint-Honore.  Within 
the  garden  the  arrangement  of  broad,  sunny  walks  and  of 
shady  horse-chestnuts  was  much  the  same  as  now.  Well- 
dressed  persons  walked  about  or  sat  under  the  trees,  and 
the  unwashed  crowd  was  admitted  only  on  two  or  three 
holidays  every  year.  In  consequence  of  this  exclusion 
the  wives  of  respectable  citizens  used  to  come  unattended 
to  take  the  air  in  the  gardens.  They  were  brought  in 
sedan-chairs,  from  which  they  alighted  at  the  gate.  What 
is  now  the  Place  de  la  Concorde  was  then  the  Place  Louis 
Quinze,  with  an  equestrian  statue  of  that  "well-beloved" 
monarch  where  the  obelisk  stands.  Not  far  from  the 
pedestal  of  that  statue  overturned,  —  not  far  from  the 
entrance  of  the  street  called  Royal,  —  near  the  place 
where  many  people  had  been  crushed  to  death  in  the 
crowd  assembled  to  see  the  fireworks  in  honor  of  the  mar- 
riage of  the  Dauphin  and  the  Princess  Marie  Antoinette 
of  Austria,  —  was  to  stand  the  scaffold  on  which  that 
Dauphin  and  that  princess,  after  reaching  the  height  of 
earthly  splendor,  were  to  pay  for  their  own  sins  and  weak- 
nesses and  for  those  of  their  country. 

To  the  west  of  the  square  came  the  Champs  Elysees, 
still  somewhat  rough  in  condition,  but  with  people  sit- 
ting on  chairs  even  then  to  watch  the  carriages  rolling 
by,  as  they  still  do  on  any  fine  afternoon.  The  Boule- 
vards stretched  their  shady  length  all  round  the  city, 
and  were  a  fashionable  drive  and  walk,  near  which  the 
smaller  theatres  rose  and  throve,  evading  the  monopoly 
of  the  opera  and  the  rran9ais.  But  the  boulevards 
were  almost  the  only  broad  streets.  Those  interminable, 
straight  avenues,  which  even  the  brilliancy  and  movement 
of  Paris  can  hardly  make  anything  but  tiresome,  had  not 
yet  been  cut.  The  streets  were  narrow  and  shady ;  most 
of  them  not  very  long,  nor  mathematically  straight,  but 
keeping  a  general  direction  and  widening  here  and  there 


PARIS.  157 

into  a  little  square  before  a  church  door,  or  curving  to 
follow  an  irregularity  of  the  ground.  Such  streets  were 
not  in  accordance  with  the  taste  of  the  age  and  caused 
progressive  people  to  complain  of  Paris.  Rousseau,  who 
had  seen  Turin,  was  disappointed  in  the  French  capital. 
On  arriving  he  saw  at  first  only  small,  dirty,  and  stinking 
streets,  ugly  black  houses,  poverty,  beggars,  and  working 
people ;  and  the  impression  thus  made  was  never  entirely 
effaced  from  his  mind,  in  spite  of  the  magnificence  which 
he  recognized  at  a  later  time.  Young  thought  that  Paris 
was  not  to  be  compared  with  London ;  and  Thomas  Jeffer- 
son wrote  that  the  latter,  though  handsomer  than  Paris, 
was  not  so  handsome  as  Philadelphia.  But  the  Parisian 
liked  his  uneven  streets  well  enough.  There  were  fine 
things  to  be  seen  in  them.  Although  the  city  was  crowded, 
there  were  gardens  in  many  places,  belonging  to  convents 
and  even  to  private  persons.  And  once  in  your  walk  you 
might  come  out  upon  a  bridge,  where,  if  there  were  not 
houses  built  upon  it,  you  might  catch  a  breath  of  the  fresh 
breeze,  and  watch  the  sun  disappearing  behind  the  distant 
village  of  Chaillot ;  for  nowhere  does  he  set  more  glori- 
ously than  along  the  Seine. ^ 

The  houses  were  tall  and  dark,  and  the  streets  narrow 
and  muddy.  There  was  little  water  to  use,  and  none  to 
waste,  for  the  larger  part  of  the  city  depended  upon  wells 
or  upon  the  supply  brought  in  buckets  from  the  Seine. 
The  scarcity  was  hardly  to  be  regretted,  for  there  were 
few  drains  to  carry  dirty  water  away,  and  the  gutter  was 
full  enough  already.  It  ran  down  the  middle  of  the 
street,  which  sloped  gently  toward  it,  and  there  were  no 
sidewalks.  When  it  rained,  this  street-gutter  would  rise 
and  overflow,  and  enterprising  men  would  come  out  with 
little  wooden  bridges  on  wheels  and  slip  them  in  between 

^  Paris  a  travers  les  ages.  Babeau,  Paris  en  1789.  Cog^el,  27,  74. 
Kousseau,  xvii.  274  (Confessions,  Part  i.  liv.  iv.).  Young,  i.  60;  Ran- 
dall's Jefferson^  i.  447. 


158  THE  EVE   OF  THE   FRENCH   REVOLUTION. 

the  carriages,  and  give  the  quick-footed  walker  an  oppor- 
tunity to  cross  the  torrent,  if  he  did  not  slip  in  from  the 
wet  plank;  while  a  pretty  woman  would  sometimes  trust 
herself  to  the  arms  of  a  burly  porter.^  The  houses  had 
gutters  along  the  eaves,  but  no  conductors  coming  down 
the  walls,  so  that  the  water  from  the  roofs  was  collected 
and  came  down  once  in  every  few  yards  in  a  torrent, 
bursting  umbrellas,  and  deluging  cloaks  and  hats.  The 
manure  spread  before  sick  men's  doors  to  deaden  the 
sound  of  wheels  was  washed  down  the  street  to  add  to  the 
destructive  qualities  which  already  characterized  the  mud 
of  Paris.  An  exceptionally  heavy  fall  of  snow  would  en- 
tirely get  the  better  of  the  authorities,  filling  the  streets 
from  side  to  side  with  pools  of  slush,  in  which  fallen  horses 
had  been  known  to  drown.  When  the  sun  shone  again  all 
was  lively  as  before ;  the  innumerable  vehicles  crowded 
the  streets  from  wall  to  wall,  with  their  great  hubs  stand- 
ing well  out  beyond  the  wheels,  and  threatened  to  evis- 
cerate the  pedestrian,  as  he  flattened  himself  against  the 
house.  The  carriages  of  the  nobility  dashed  through  the 
press,  the  drivers  calling  out  to  make  room;  they  were 
now  seldom  preceded  by  runners  in  splendid  livery,  as 
had  been  the  fashion  under  the  former  reign,  but  some- 
times one  or  two  huge  dogs  careered  in  front,  and  the 
Parisians  complained  that  they  were  first  knocked  down 
by  the  dogs  and  then  run  over  by  the  wheels.  At  times 
came  street  cleaners  and  swept  up  some  of  the  mud,  and 
carted  it  away,  having  first  freely  spattered  the  clothes  of 
all  who  passed  near  them.  In  some  streets  were  slaugh- 
ter-houses, and  terrified  cattle  occasionally  made  their 
way  into  the  neighboring  shops.  The  signs  swung  mer- 
rily overhead.  They  appealed  to  the  most  careless  eye, 
being  often  gigantic  boots,  or  swords,  or  gloves,  marking 
what  was  for  sale  within ;  or  if  in  words,  they  might  be 

1  See  the  print  in  Fournel,  539,  after  Granier.     Conductors  were 
coming  into  use  before  the  Revolution.    Encyc.  meth.  Jurisp.,  x.  716. 


PARIS.  159 

misspelt,  and  thus  adapted  to  a  rude  understanding. 
Large  placards  on  the  walls  advertised  the  theatres. 
Street  musicians  performed  on  their  instruments.  Ballad- 
singers  howled  forth  the  story  of  the  last  great  crime. 
Amid  all  the  hubbub,  the  nimble  citizen  who  had  prac- 
ticed walking  as  a  fine  art,  picked  his  careful  way  in  low 
shoes  and  white  silk  stockings ;  hoping  to  avoid  the  neces- 
sity of  calling  for  the  services  of  the  men  with  clothes- 
brush  and  blacking  who  waited  at  the  street  corners.^ 

They  were  a  fine  sight,  these  citizens  of  Paris,  before 
the  male  half  of  the  world  had  adopted,  even  in  its  hours 
of  play,  the  black  and  gray  livery  of  toil.  The  Parisians 
of  the  latter  part  of  King  Louis  XVI.'s  reign  affected 
simplicity  of  attire,  but  not  gloom.  The  cocked  hat  was 
believed  to  have  permanently  driven  out  the  less  graceful 
round  hat.  It  was  jauntily  placed  on  the  wearer's  own 
hair,  which  was  powdered  and  tied  behind  with  a  black 
ribbon.  For  the  coat,  stripes  were  in  fashion,  of  light 
blue  and  pink,  or  other  brilliant  colors.  The  waistcoat 
and  breeches  might  be  pale  yellow,  with  pink  bindings 
and  blue  buttons ;  the  garters  and  the  clocks  of  the  white 
stockings,  blue;  the  shoes  black,  with  plain  steel  buckles. 
This  would  be  an  appropriate  costume  for  the  street; 
although  many  people  wore  court-mourning  from  econ- 
omy, and  forgot  to  take  it  off  when  the  court  did.  A 
handsome  snuff-box,  often  changed,  and  a  ring,  were  part 
of  the  costume  of  a  well-dressed  man ;  and  it  was  usual  to 
wear  two  watches,  probably  from  an  excessive  effort  after 
symmetry ;  while  it  is  intimated  by  the  satirist  that  clean 
lace  cuffs  were  sometimes  sewn  upon  a  dirty  shirt. ^ 

1  Mercier,  xii.  71,  i.  107,  123,  215,  216.  Young,  i.  76.  In  1761  the 
signs  in  the  principal  streets  were  reduced  to  a  projection  of  three 
feet.  Later,  they  were  ordered  to  be  set  flat  against  the  walls. 
Babeau,  Paris,  42  ;  but  see  Mercier.  Names  were  first  put  on  the 
street  corners  in  1728.    Babeau,  Paris,  43.    Franklin,  U Hygiene. 

^  Babeau,    Paris,    214.     Fashion   plates    in   various    books.      For 


160     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

The  costume  of  gentlemen  in  this  reign  was  as  graceful 
in  shape  as  any  that  has  been  worn  in  modern  Europe. 
The  coat  and  waistcoat  were  rather  long  and  followed 
the  lines  of  the  person ;  the  tight  breeches  met  the  long 
stockings  just  below  the  knee,  showing  the  figure  to 
advantage.  The  dress  of  ladies,  on  the  other  hand,  was 
stiff,  grotesque,  and  ungainly;  waists  were  worn  very 
long,  and  hoops  were  large  and  stiff.  But  the  most 
noticeable  thing  was  the  huge  structure  which,  almost 
throughout  the  reign,  was  built  upon  ladies'  heads.  As 
it  varied  between  one  and  three  feet  in  height,  and  was 
very  elaborate  in  design,  it  could  not  often  be  taken  down. 
No  little  skill  was  required  to  construct  it,  and  poor  girls 
could  sometimes  earn  a  living  by  letting  out  their  heads 
by  the  hour  to  undergo  the  practice  of  clumsy  barbers' 
apprentices.  At  one  time  red  hair  came  into  fashion  and 
was  simulated  by  the  use  of  red  powder.  The  colors  for 
clothes  varied  with  the  invention  of  the  milliners,  and  the 
habit  of  giving  grotesque  names  to  new  colors  had  already 
arisen  in  Paris.  About  1782,  "fleas'  back  and  belly," 
"goose  dung,"  and  "Paris  mud  "were  the  last  new  thing. 
Caps  "a  la  Boston,"  and  "a  la  Philadelphie,"  had  gone 
out.  Instead  of  the  fashion-plates  with  which  Paris  has 
since  supplied  the  world,  but  which  under  Louis  XVI. 
were  only  just  coming  into  use,  dolls  were  dressed  in  the 
latest  style  by  the  milliners  and  sent  to  London,  Berlin, 
and  Vienna.^ 

The  dress  of  the  common  people  was  more  brilliant  and 
varied  than  it  is  in  our  time,  but  probably  less  neat. 
Cleanliness  of  person  has  never  been  a  leading  virtue 
evening  dress,  suits  all  of  black  were  beginning  to  come  in  towards 
1789.  In  the  street  gentlemen  were  beginning  to  dress  like  grooms, 
aping  the  English.  The  sword  was  still  worn  at  times,  even  by- 
upper  servants,  but  the  cane  was  fast  superseding  it.  Women  also 
carried  canes,  which  helped  them  to  walk  in  their  high-heeled  shoes. 
Mercier,  xi.  229,  i.  293. 

1  Franklin,  Les  soins  de  toilette.     Mercier,  viii.  295,  ii.  197, 198,  2ia 


PARIS.  161 

among  the  French  poor.  Although  there  were  elaborate 
bathing  establishments  in  the  river,  a  large  proportion  of 
the  people  hardly  knew  what  it  was  to  take  a  bath.^  The 
sentimental  milkmaids  of  Greuze  are  no  more  like  the 
tanned  and  wrinkled  women  that  sold  milk  in  the  streets 
of  Paris,  than  the  court-shepherdesses  of  Watteau  and  Bou- 
cher were  like  the  rude  peasants  that  watched  their  sheep 
on  the  Jura  mountains.  But  the  Parisian  cockney  was 
fond  of  dress,  and  would  rather  starve  his  stomach  than 
his  back.  The  milliners'  shops,  where  the  pretty  seam- 
stresses sat  sewing  all  day  in  sight  of  the  street,  remind- 
ing the  Parisians  of  seraglios,  were  never  empty  of  those 
who  had  money  to  spend.  For  leaner  purses,  the  women 
who  sat  under  umbrellas  in  front  of  the  Colonnade  of  the 
Louvre  had  bargains  of  cast-off  clothing ;  and  there  were 
booths  along  the  quays  on  Sunday,  and  a  fair  in  the 
Place  de  la  Greve  on  Monday. ^ 

It  is  sometimes  said  of  our  own  times  that  the  rich  have 
become  richer  and  the  poor  poorer  than  in  former  days. 
I  believe  that  this  is  entirely  untrue,  and  that  in  the  sec- 
ond half  of  the  nineteenth  century  a  smaller  proportion  of 
the  inhabitants  of  civilized  countries  suffers  from  hunger 
and  cold  than  ever  before.  Whatever  be  the  figures  by 
which  fortunes  are  counted,  there  is  no  doubt  that  the  visi- 
ble difference  between  the  rich  and  the  poor  was  greater  in 
the  reign  of  Louis  XVI.  than  in  our  own  time.^  In  spite 
of  the  fashion  of  simplicity  which  was  one  of  the  affecta- 

1  But  Young  says,  *'  In  point  of  cleanliness  I  think  the  merit 
of  the  two  nations  is  divided  ;  the  French  are  cleaner  in  their  per- 
sons, and  the  English  in  their  houses."  Young,  i.  291.  The  whole 
comparison  there  given  of  French  and  English  customs  is  most  inter- 
esting. 

2  Mercier,  viii.  269,  ix.  294,  v.  281,  ii.  267. 

^  Mercier  mentions  fortunes  varying  from  100,000  to  900,000 
livres  income,  and  speaks  of  the  former  as  common,  i,  172.  Mean- 
while clerks  got  from  800  to  1500  livres  and  even  less.  Those  with 
1200  wore  velvet  coats,  ii.  118. 


162     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

tions  of  those  days,  the  courtier  still  on  occasion  glittered 
in  brocade.  His  liveried  servants  waited  about  his  door. 
His  lackeys  climbed  behind  his  coach,  and  awoke  the  dimly 
lighted  streets  with  the  glare  of  their  torches,  as  the 
heavy  vehicle  bore  him  homeward  from  the  supper  and 
the  card-table.  The  luxuries  of  great  houses  were  rela- 
tively more  expensive.  A  dish  of  early  peas  might  cost 
six  hundred  francs.  Six  different  officials  (a  word  less 
dignified  would  hardly  suit  the  importance  of  the  subject), 
had  charge  of  the  preparation  of  his  lordship's  food  and 
drink,  and  bullied  the  numerous  train  of  serving-men, 
kitchen  -  boys,  and  scullions.  There  was  the  maitre 
d' hotel.,  or  housekeeper,  who  attended  to  purchases  and  to 
storing  the  food;  the  chief  cook,  for  soups,  Jiors  d''oeuvre, 
entrees.,  and  entremets;  the  pastry-cook,  with  general 
charge  of  the  oven ;  the  roaster,  who  fattened  the  poultry 
and  larded  the  meat  before  he  put  the  turnspit  dog  into  the 
wheel;  an  Italian  confectioner  for  sweet  dishes;  and  a 
butler  to  look  after  the  wine.  Bread  was  usually  brought 
from  the  bakers,  even  to  great  houses,  and  was  charged 
for  by  keeping  tally  with  notches  on  a  stick.  Baking  was 
an  important  trade  in  Paris,  and  in  times  of  scarcity  the 
bakers  were  given  the  first  chance  to  buy  wood.  For  del- 
icacies, there  was  the  great  shop  at  the  Hotel  d'Aligre  in 
the  Rue  Saint  Honore,  a  "famous  temple  of  gluttony," 
where  truffles  from  Perigord,  potted  partridges  from 
Nerac,  and  carp  from  Strasbourg  were  piled  beside  dates, 
figs,  and  pots  of  orange  jelly;  and  where  the  foreigner 
from  beyond  the  Rhine,  or  the  Alps,  could  find  his  own 
sauerkraut  or  macaroni.^ 

At  the  tables  of  the  rich  it  was  usual  to  entertain  many 
guests;  not  in  the  modern  way,  by  asking  people  for  a 
particular  day  and  hour,  but  by  general  invitation.  The 
host  opened  his  house  two  or  three  times  a  week  for  din- 

1  Mercier,  x.  208,  xi.  229,  346,  xii.  243. 


PARIS. 


163 


ner  or  supper,  and  anybody  who  had  once  been  invited 
was  always  at  liberty  to  drop  in.  Thus  arose  a  class  of 
respectably  dressed  people  who  were  in  the  habit  of  dining 
daily  at  the  cost  of  their  acquaintance.  After  dinner  it 
was  the  fashion  to  slip  away;  the  hostess  called  out  a 
polite  phrase  across  the  table  to  the  retreating  guest,  who 
replied  with  a  single  word.^ '  It  was  of  course  but  a  small 
part  of  the  inhabitants  of  Paris  that  ate  at  rich  men's 
tables.  The  fare  of  the  middle  classes  was  far  less  elab- 
orate; but  it  generally  included  meat  once  or  twice  a  day. 
The  markets  were  dirty,  and  fish  was  dear  and  bad. 
The  duties  which  were  levied  at  the  entrance  of  the  town 
raised  the  price  of  food,  and  of  the  wine  which  Frenchmen 
find  equally  essential.  Provisions  were  usually  bought 
in  very  small  quantities,  less  than  a  pound  of  sugar  at  a 
time.  Enough  for  one  meal  only  was  brought  home,  in 
a  piece  of  printed  paper,  or  an  old  letter.  Unsuccess- 
fid  books  thus  found  their  use  at  the  grocer's.  Before 
dinner  the  supply  for  dinner  was  bought ;  before  supper, 
that  for  supper.  After  the  meal  nothing  was  left.  The 
poorer  citizens  carried  their  dinners  to  be  baked  at  the 
cook-shops,  and  saved  something  in  the  price  of  wood. 
The  lower  classes  had  their  meat  chopped  fine  and  packed 
in  sausages,  as  is  still  done  in  Germany,  an  economical 
measure  by  which  many  shortcomings  are  covered  up  and 
no  scrap  is  lost.^ 

The  use  of  coffee  had  become  universal.  It  was  sold 
about  the  streets  for  two  sous  a  cup,  including  the  milk 
and  a  tiny  bit  of  sugar.  While  the  rich  drank  punch  and 
ate  ices,  the  poor  slaked  their  thirst  with  liquorice  water, 

1  Mercier,  i.  176,  ii.  225.  La  Robe  dine,  La  f  nance  soiipe.  Mercier 
says  that  a  man  who  was  a  whole  year  without  calling  at  a  house 
where  he  had  once  been  admitted  had  to  be  presented  over  again,  and 
make  some  excuse,  as  that  he  had  traveled,  etc.  This  the  hostess 
pretended  to  believe. 

2  Ibid.,  i.  219,  xii.  128. 


164     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

drawn  from  a  shining  cylinder  carried  on  a  man's  back. 
The  cups  were  fastened  to  this  itinerant  fountain  by  long 
chains,  and  were  liable  to  be  dashed  from  thirsty  lips  in  a 
crowd  by  any  one  passing  between  the  drinker  and  the 
water-seller.^ 

For  the  very  poor  there  was  second-hand  food,  the 
rejected  scraps  of  the  rich.  In  Paris  they  were  nasty 
enough ;  but  at  Versailles,  where  the  king  and  the  princes 
lived,  even  people  that  were  well  to  do  did  not  scorn  to 
buy  dishes  that  had  been  carried  untouched  from  a  royal 
table.  Near  the  poultry  market  in  Paris,  a  great  pot  was 
always  hanging  on  the  fire,  with  capons  boiling  in  it; 
you  bought  a  boiled  fowl  with  its  broth,  a  savory  mess. 
In  general  the  variety  of  food  was  increasing.  Within 
forty  years  the  number  of  sorts  of  fruit  and  vegetables  in 
use  had  almost  doubled.^ 

The  population  was  divided  into  many  distinct  classes, 
but  there  was  a  good  deal  of  intercourse  from  class  to 
class,  nor  was  it  extremely  difficult  for  the  able  and  am- 
bitious to  rise  in  the  world.  The  financiers  had  become 
rich  and  important,  but  were  regarded  with  jealousy.  In 
an  aristocratic  state  the  nobles  think  it  all  wrong  that 
any  one  else  should  have  as  much  money  as  themselves. 
This  is  not  strange;  but  it  is  more  remarkable  that  the 
common  people  are  generally  of  the  same  opinion,  and 
that,  while  the  profusion  of  the  great  noble  is  looked  on 
as  no  more  than  the  liberality  which  belongs  to  his  station, 
the  extravagance  of  the  mere  man  of  money  is  condemned 
and  derided.  This  tendency  was  increased  in  France  by 
the  fact  that  many  of  the  greatest  fortunes  were  made  by 
the  farmers  of  the  revenue,  who  were  hated  as  publicans 

1  Mercier,  viii.  270,  n.,  iv.  154,  xii.  296,  v.  310.  See  plates  in  Four- 
nel,  509,  516. 

2  Ibid.,  V.  85,  249.  Genlis,  Dictionnaire  des  Etiquettes,  ii.  40,  n., 
citing  Buffon.  Scraps  of  food  are  still  sold  in  the  Central  Market  of 
Paris. 


PARIS.  165 

even  more  than  they  were  envied  as  rich  men.  Yet  one 
financier,  Necker,  although  of  foreign  birth,  was  perhaps 
the  most  popular  man  in  France  during  this  reign,  and  it 
was  not  the  least  of  Louis's  follies  or  misfortunes  that  he 
could  not  bring  himself  to  share  the  admiration  of  his 
people  for  his  Director  General  of  the  Treasury. 

The  mercantile  class  in  Paris  did  not  hold  a  high  posi- 
tion. The  merchant  was  too  much  of  a  shopkeeper,  and 
the  shopkeeper  was  too  much  of  a  huckster.  The  small- 
est sale  involved  a  long  course  of  bargaining.  This  was 
perhaps  partly  due  to  the  fact,  admirable  in  itseK,  that  the 
wife  was  generally  united  with  her  husband  in  the  manage- 
ment of  the  shop.  The  customary  law  of  Paris  was  favor- 
able to  the  rights  of  property  of  married  women ;  and  the 
latter  were  associated  with  their  husbands  in  commerce 
and  consulted  in  all  affairs.  This  habit  is  still  observed 
in  France.  It  tends  to  draw  husband  and  wife  together, 
by  uniting  their  occupations  and  their  interests.  Unfor- 
tunately it  tends  also  to  the  neglect  of  children,  especially 
in  infancy,  when  their  claims  are  exacting.  Thus  the 
Frenchwoman  of  the  middle  class  is  in  some  respects  more 
of  a  wife  and  less  of  a  mother  than  the  corresponding 
Anglo-Saxon.  The  babies,  even  of  people  of  very  mod- 
erate means,  were  generally  sent  out  from  Paris  into  the 
country  to  be  nursed.  Later  in  the  lives  of  children,  girls 
were  kept  continually  with  their  mothers,  watched  and 
guarded  with  a  care  of  which  we  have  little  conception. 
Boys  were  much  more  separated  from  their  parents,  and 
left  to  schoolmasters.  Neither  boys  nor  girls  were  trusted 
or  allowed  to  gain  experience  for  themselves  nearly  as 
much  as  we  consider  desirable.^ 

Marriages  were  generally  left  to  the  discretion  of  par- 
ents, except  in  the  lowest  classes ;  and  parents  were  too 
often  governed  by  pecuniary,  rather  than  by  personal 
considerations  in  choosing  the  wives  and  husbands  of  their 
1  Mercier,  i.  53,  v.  231,  ix.  173,  vi.  325. 


166     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

sons  and  daughters.  Such  a  system  of  marriage  would 
seem  unbearable,  did  we  not  know  that  it  is  borne  and 
approved  by  the  greater  part  of  mankind.  It  is  possible 
that  the  chief  objection  to  it  is  to  be  found  less  in  the 
want  of  attachment  between  married  people,  which  might 
be  supposed  to  be  its  natural  result,  than  in  the  diminu- 
tion of  the  sense  of  loyalty.  In  England  and  America  it 
is  felt  to  be  disgraceful  to  break  a  contract  which  both 
parties  have  freely  made,  with  their  eyes  open ;  and  this 
feeling  greatly  reenforces  the  other  motives  to  fidelity. 
Yet  while  the  rich  and  idle  class  in  France,  if  the  stories 
of  French  writers  may  be  trusted,  has  always  been  honey- 
combed with  marital  unfaithfulness,  there  are  probably 
no  people  in  the  world  more  united  than  the  husbands  and 
wives  of  the  French  lower  and  middle  classes.  Working 
side  by  side  all  the  week  with  tireless  industry,  sharing  a 
frugal  but  not  a  sordid  life,  they  seek  their  innocent 
pleasures  together  on  Sundays  and  holidays.  The  whole 
neighborhood  of  Paris  is  enlivened  with  their  not  un- 
seemly gayety,  as  freely  shared  as  the  toil  by  which  it  was 
earned.  The  rowdyism  of  the  sports  in  which  men  are 
not  accompanied  by  women,  the  concentrated  vulgarity  of 
the  summer  boarding-house,  where  women  live  apart  from 
the  men  of  their  families,  are  almost  equally  unknown  in 
France.  In  the  latter  part  of  the  eighteenth  century 
many  of  the  comfortable  burghers  of  Paris  owned  little 
villas  in  the  suburbs,  whither  the  family  retired  on  Sun- 
days, sometimes  taking  the  shop-boy  as  an  especial  favor. 
The  common  people  also  were  to  be  found  in  great  num- 
bers in  the  suburban  villages,  such  as  Passy,  Auteuil,  or 
in  the  Bois  de  Boulogne,  dancing  on  the  green ;  although 
in  the  reign  of  Louis  XVI.  they  are  said  to  have  been  less 
gay  than  before.^ 

Artists,    artisans,   and   journeymen,   in   their   various 
degrees,  formed  classes  of  great  importance,  for  Paris  was 
1  Mercier,  iii.  143,  iv.  162,  xii.  101. 


PARIS.  167 

famous  for  many  sorts  of  manufactures,  and  especially 
for  those  which  required  good  taste.  But  it  was  noticed 
that  on  account  of  the  abridgment  of  the  power  of  the 
trade-guilds,  and  the  consequent  rise  of  competition, 
French  goods  were  losing  in  excellence,  while  they  gained 
in  cheapness ;  so  that  it  was  said  that  workmanship  was 
becoming  less  thorough  in  Paris  than  in  London. 

The  police  of  Paris  was  already  remarkable  for  its 
efficiency.  The  inhabitants  of  the  capital  of  France  lived 
secure  in  their  houses,  or  rode  freely  into  the  country, 
while  those  of  London  were  in  danger  of  being  stopped 
by  highwaymen  on  suburban  roads,  or  robbed  at  night  by 
housebreakers  in  town.  From  riots,  also,  the  Parisians 
had  long  been  singularly  free,  and  for  more  than  a  cen- 
tury had  seen  none  of  importance,  while  London  was  ter- 
rified, and  much  property  destroyed  in  1780  by  the  Gordon 
ii'iots.  In  spite  of  the  forebodings  of  some  few  pessimists, 
people  did  not  expect  any  great  revolution,  but  rather 
social  and  economic  reforms.  It  was  believed  that  the 
powers  of  repression  were  too  strong  for  the  powers  of 
insurrection.  The  crash  came  at  last,  not  through  the 
failure  of  the  ordinary  police,  but  from  demoralization  at 
the  centre  of  government  and  in  the  army.  While  Louis 
still  reigned  in  peace  at  Versailles,  the  administration  of 
Paris  went  on  efficiently.  Correspondence  was  maintained 
with  the  police  of  other  cities.  Criminals  and  suspected 
persons,  when  arrested,  could  be  condemned  by  summary 
process.  The  Lieutenant  General  of  Police  had  it  in  his 
discretion  to  punish  without  publicity.  The  more  scan- 
dalous crimes  were  systematically  hidden  from  the  public ; 
ft  process  more  favorable  to  morality  than  to  civil  liberty. 
For  the  criminal  classes  in  Paris  arbitrary  imprisonment 
vvas  the  common  fate,  and  disreputable  men  and  women 
were  brought  in  by  bands.  ^ 

The  liability  to  arbitrary  arrest  affected  the  lives  of  but 
1  Mercier,  vi.  206.     Monier,  396. 


168     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FHENCH  REVOLUTION. 

a  small  proportion  of  the  citizens  after  all.  To  most 
Parisians  it  was  far  more  important  that  the  streets  were 
safe  by  day  and  night;  that  fire-engines  were  provided, 
and  Capuchin  monks  trained  to  use  them,  while  soldiers 
hastened  to  the  fire  and  would  press  all  able-bodied  men 
into  the  service  of  passing  buckets ;  that  small  civil  cases 
were  promptly  and  justly  disposed  of.^ 

The  increase  of  humane  ideas  which  marked  the  age 
was  beginning  in  the  course  of  this  reign  to  affect  the 
hospitals  and  poor-houses  as  well  as  the  prisons,  and  to 
diminish  their  horrors.  At  the  Hotel  Dieu,  the  greatest 
hospital  in  Paris,  six  patients  were  sometimes  wedged 
into  one  filthy  bed.  Yet  even  there,  some  improvement 
had  taken  place.  And  while  Howard  considered  that 
hospital  a  disgrace  to  Paris,  he  found  many  other  chari- 
table foundations  in  the  city  which  did  it  honor.  Here  as 
elsewhere  there  was  no  uniformity.^ 

In  the  medical  profession,  the  regular  physicians  held 
themselves  far  above  the  surgeons,  many  of  whom  had 
been  barbers'  apprentices;  but  it  would  appear  that  the 
science  of  surgery  was  better  taught  and  was  really  in  a 
more  advanced  state  than  that  of  medicine.  More  than 
eight  hundred  students  attended  the  school  of  surgery. 
In  medicine,  inoculation  was  slowly  making  its  way,  but 
was  resorted  to  only  by  the  upper  classes.  Excessive 
bleeding  and  purgation  were  going  out  of  fashion,  but  the 
poor  still  employed  quacks,  or  swallowed  the  coarse  drugs 
which  the  grocers  sold  cheaper  than  the  regular  apothe- 
caries, or  relied  on  the  universal  remedy  of  the  lower 
classes  in  Paris,  a  cordial  of  black  currants.^ 

1  Mercier,  i.  197,  210,  ix.  220,  xii.  162  (Jurisdiction  consulaire). 

2  Mercier,  vii.  7,  iii.  225.  Howard,  State  of  the  Prisons,  176,  177. 
Babeau,  La  Ville,  435.  Cognel,  88.  A  horrible  description  of  the 
Hotel  Dieu,  written  in  1788  by  Tenon,  a  member  of  Academy  oi 
Sciences,  is  given  in  A.  Franklin,  UHygihie,  181. 

8  It  was  called  Cassis.     Mercier,  xii.  126,  vii.  126. 


•  PARTS.  169 

Near  the  Hotel  Dieu  was  the  asylum  for  foundlings, 
whither  they  were  brought  not  only  from  Paris,  but  from 
distant  towns,  and  whence  they  were  sent  out  to  be  nursed 
in  the  country.  They  were  brought  to  Paris  done  up 
tightly  in  their  swaddling  clothes,  little  crying  bundles, 
packed  three  at  a  time  into  wadded  boxes,  carried  on 
men's  backs.  The  habit  of  dressing  children  loosely, 
recommended  by  Rousseau,  had  not  yet  reached  the  poor; 
as  the  habit  of  having  babies  nursed  by  their  own 
mothers,  which  he  had  also  striven  to  introduce,  had  been 
speedily  abandoned  by  the  rich.  The  mortality  among 
the  foundlings  was  great,  for  two  hundred  of  them  were 
sometimes  kept  in  one  ward  during  their  stay  at  the 
asylum.^ 

Although  some  falling  off  in  the  ardor  of  religious 
practices  was  noticed  as  the  Revolution  drew  near,  the 
ceremonies  of  the  church  were  still  visible  in  all  their 
splendor.  On  the  feast  of  Corpus  Christi  a  long  proces- 
sion passed  through  the  streets,  where  doors  and  windows 
were  hung  with  carpets  and  tapestry.  The  worsted  pic- 
tures, it  is  true,  were  adapted  rather  to  a  decorative  than 
to  a  pious  purpose,  and  over-scrupulous  persons  might  be 
shocked  at  seeing  Europa  on  her  bull,  or  Ps^^che  admiring 
the  sleejDing  Cupid,  on  the  route  of  a  religious  procession. 
Such  anomalies,  however,  could  well  be  disregarded. 
Around  the  sacred  Host  were  gathered  the  dignitaries  of 
the  state  and  the  city  in  their  robes  of  office,  marshaled 
by  the  priests,  who  for  that  day  seemed  to  command  the 
town.  In  some  cases,  it  is  said,  the  great  lords  contented 
themselves  with  sending  their  liveried  servants  to  repre- 
sent them.  Soldiers  formed  the  escort.  The  crowd  in 
the  street  fell  on  its  knees  as  the  procession  passed.  Flow- 
ers, incense,  music,  the  faithful  with  their  foreheads  in 
the  dust,   aU  contributed  to  the  picturesqueness  of  the 

^  Mercier,  iii.  239,  viii.  188.  Cognel  found  the  asylum  very  clean, 
Cognel,  87» 


170     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

scene.  A  week  later  the  ceremony  was  repeated  with 
almost  equal  pomp.  On  the  Sunday  following,  there  was 
another  procession  in  the  northern  suburbs.  Naked  boys, 
leading  lambs,  represented  Saint  John  the  Baptist;  Mag- 
dalens  eight  years  old,  walking  by  their  nurses'  side,  wept 
over  their  sins;  the  pupils  of  the  school  of  the  Sacred 
Heart  marched  with  downcast  eyes.  The  Host  was  car- 
ried under  a  dais  of  which  the  cords  were  held  by  respected 
citizens,  and  was  escorted  by  forty  Swiss  guards.  A 
hundred  and  fifty  censers  swung  incense  on  the  air.  The 
diplomatic  corps  watched  the  procession  from  the  balcony 
of  the  Venetian  ambassador,  even  the  Protestants  bowing 
or  kneeling  with  the  rest.^ 

From  time  to  time,  through  the  year,  these  great  cere- 
monies were  renewed,  either  on  a  regularly  returning  day, 
or  as  occasion  might  demand.  On  the  3d  of  July  the 
Swiss  of  the  rue  aux  Ours  was  publicly  carried  in  proces- 
sion. There  was  a  legend  that  a  Swiss  Protestant  soldier 
had  once  struck  the  statue  of  the  Holy  Virgin  on  the  cor- 
ner of  this  street  with  his  sword,  and  that  blood  had 
flowed  from  the  wounded  image.  Therefore,  on  the  anni- 
versary of  the  outrage,  a  wicker  figure  was  carried  about 
the  town,  bobbing  at  all  the  sacred  images  at  the  street 
corners,  with  a  curious  mixture  of  piety  and  fun.  Orig- 
inally it  had  been  dressed  like  a  Swiss,  but  the  people 
of  Switzerland,  who  were  numerous  and  useful  in  Paris, 
remonstrated  at  a  custom  likely  to  bring  them  into  con- 
tempt; and  the  grotesque  giant  was  thereupon  arrayed  in 
a  wig  and  a  long  coat,  with  a  wooden  dagger  painted  red 
in  his  hand.  The  grammarian  Du  Marsais  once  got  into 
trouble  on  the  occasion  of  this  procession.  He  was  walk- 
ing in  the  street  when  one  woman  elbowed  another  in  try- 
ing to  get  near  the  statue.  "If  you  want  to  pray,"  said 
the  woman  who  had  been  pushed,  "go  on  your  knees 
where  you  are;  the  Holy  Virgin  is  everywhere."  Du 
1  Mercier,  iii.  78.     Cognel,  101. 


PARIS.  171 

Marsais  was  so  indiscreet  as  to  interfere.  Being  a  gram- 
marian, he  was  probably  of  a  disputatious  turn  of  mind. 
"My  good  woman,"  said  he,  "you  have  spoken  heresy. 
Only  God  is  everywhere;  not  the  Virgin."  The  woman 
turned  on  him  and  cried  out :  "  See  this  old  wretch,  this 
Huguenot,  this  Calvinist,  who  says  that  the  Holy  Virgin 
is  not  everywhere !  "  Thereupon  Du  Marsais  was  attacked 
by  the  mob  and  forced  to  take  refuge  in  a  house,  whence 
he  was  rescued  by  the  guard,  which  kept  him  shut  up  for 
his  own  safety  until  after  nightfall.  ^ 

For  an  occasional  procession,  we  have  one  in  October, 
1785,  when  three  hundred  and  thirteen  prisoners,  re- 
deemed from  slavery  among  the  Algerines,  were  led  for 
three  days  about  the  streets  with  great  pomp  by  brothers 
of  the  orders  of  the  Redemption.  Each  captive  was  con- 
ducted by  two  angels,  to  whom  he  was  bound  with  red  and 
blue  ribbons,  and  the  angels  carried  scrolls  emblazoned 
with  the  arms  of  the  orders.  There  was  the  usual  display 
of  banners  and  crosses,  guards  and  policemen ;  there  were 
bands  of  music  and  palm-branches.  The  long  march  re- 
quired frequent  refreshment,  which  was  offered  by  the 
faithful,  and  it  is  said  that  many  of  the  captives  and  some 
of  the  professionally  religious  persons  indulged  too  freely. 
A  drunken  angel  must  have  been  a  cheerful  sight  indeed. 
The  object  of  this  procession  was  to  raise  money  to  re- 
deem more  prisoners  from  slavery,  for  the  Barbary  pirates 
were  still  suffered  by  the  European  powers  to  plunder  the 
commerce  of  the  Mediterranean  and  to  kidnap  Christian 
sailors.^ 

Nor  was  it  in  great  festivals  alone  that  the  religious 
spirit   of  the  people  was  manifested.     On  Sundays   aU 

1  Mercier,  iv.  97.  Fournel,  176.  This  procession  was  abolished 
by  order  of  the  police,  June  27,  1789.     Fournel,  177. 

2  Bachaumont,  xxx.  24.  Compare  Lesage,  i.  347  {Le  diable  hoiteux, 
eh.  xix).  For  a  procession  of  persons  delivered  by  charity  from  im- 
prisoiuueut  for  not  paying  their  wet  nurses,  see  Mercier,  xii.  85. 


172     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

shops  were  shut,  and  the  common  people  heard  at  least 
the  morning  mass,  although  they  were  getting  careless 
about  vespers.  Every  spring  for  a  fortnight  about  Eas- 
ter, there  was  a  great  revival  of  religious  observance,  and 
churches  and  confessionals  were  crowded.  But  through- 
out the  year,  one  humble  kind  of  procession  might  be  met 
in  the  streets  of  Paris.  A  poor  priest,  in  a  worn  sur- 
plice, reverently  carries  the  Host  under  an  old  dii-ty  can- 
opy. A  beadle  plods  along  in  front,  with  an  acolyte  to 
ring  the  bell,  at  the  sound  of  which  the  passers-by  kneel 
in  the  streets  and  cabs  and  coaches  are  stopped.  Louis 
XV.  once  met  the  "Good  God,"  as  the  eucharistic  wafer 
was  piously  called,  and  earned  a  short-lived  popularity  by 
going  down  on  his  silken  knees  in  the  mud.  All  persons 
may  follow  the  viaticum  into  the  chamber  of  the  dying. 
The  watch,  if  it  meets  the  procession  on  its  return,  will 
escort  it  back  to  its  church.^ 

Let  us  follow  it  in  the  early  morning,  and,  taking  our 
stand  under  the  porch  where  the  broken  statues  of  the 
saints  are  still  crowned  with  the  faded  flowers  of  yester- 
day's festival,  or  wandering  thence  about  the  streets  of 
the  city,  let  us  watch  the  stream  of  life  as  it  flows  now 
stronger,  now  more  gently  hour  by  hour. 

It  is  seven  o'clock.  The  market  gardeners,  with  their 
empty  baskets,  are  jogging  on  their  weary  horses  toward 
the  suburbs.  Already  they  have  supplied  the  markets. 
They  meet  only  the  early  clerks,  fresh  shaven  and  pow- 
dered, hastening  to  their  offices.  At  nine,  the  town  is 
decidedly  awake.  The  young  barber-surgeons  ("whit- 
ing "  as  the  Parisians  call  them),  sprinkled  from  head  to 
foot  with  hair  powder,  carry  the  curling-iron  in  one  hand, 
the  wig  in  the  other,  on  their  way  to  the  houses  of  their 
customers.  The  waiters  from  the  lemonade  -  shops  are 
bringing  coffee  and  cakes  to  the  occupants  of  furnished 

1  Ordonnance  de  la  police  du  Chatelel  concernant  Vobservation   dei 
dlmanches  etjetes,  du  18  Novembre,  1782.    Mouin,  403. 


PARIS.  173 

lodgings.  On  tlie  boulevards,  young  dandies,  struck  with 
Anglomania,  contend  awkwardly  with  their  saddle-horses. 

At  ten  lawyers  in  black  and  clients  of  all  colors  flock 
to  the  island  in  the  river  where  are  the  courts  of  law. 
The  Palace,  as  the  great  court-house  is  called,  is  a  large 
and  imposing  pile  of  buildings,  with  fine  halls  and  strong 
prisons,  and  the  most  beautiful  of  gothic  chapels.  But 
the  passages  are  blocked  with  the  stalls  of  hucksters  who 
sell  stationery,  books,  and  knicknacks.^ 

In  the  rue  Neuve  des  Petits  Champs  they  are  drawing 
the  royal  lottery.  The  Lieutenant-General  of  Police, 
accompanied  by  several  officers,  appears  on  a  platform. 
Near  him  is  the  wheel  of  fortune.  The  wheel  is  turned, 
it  stops,  and  a  boy  with  blindfolded  eyes  puts  his  hand 
into  an  opening  in  the  wheel,  and  pulls  out  a  ticket, 
which  he  hands  to  the  official.  The  latter  opens  it,  hold- 
ing it  up  conspicuously  in  front  of  him  to  avert  suspicion 
of  foul  play.  The  ticket  is  then  posted  on  a  board,  and 
the  boy  pulls  out  another.  The  crowd  is  noisy  and  ex- 
cited at  first,  then  sombre  and  discouraged  as  all  the 
chances  are  exhausted. 

Noon  is  the  time  when  the  Exchange  is  most  active,  and 
when  lazy  people  hang  about  the  Palais  Royal,  whose 
gardens  are  the  centre  of  news  and  gossip.  The  ante- 
chambers of  bankers  and  men  in  place  are  crowded  with 
anxious  clients.  At  two  the  streets  are  full  of  diners- 
out,  and  all  the  cabs  are  taken.  They  are  heavy  and 
clumsy  vehicles,  dirty  inside  and  out,  and  the  coachmen 
are  drunken  fellows.  Clerks  and  upper  servants  dash 
about  in  cabriolets,  and  sober  people  are  scandalized  at 
seeing  women  in  these  frivolous  vehicles  unescorted. 
"They  go  alone;  they  go  in  pairs!  "  cries  one,  "without 
any  men.  You  would  think  they  wanted  to  change  their 
sex."  Dandies  drive  the  high-built  English  "whiski." 
All  are  blocked  among  carts  and  drays,  with  sacks,  and 
1  Mercier,  vi.  72,  iv.  146,  ix.  171.     Cognel,  41. 


174     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

beams,  and  casks  of  wine.  For  people  that  would  go  out 
of  town  there  are  comfortable  traveling  chaises,  or  the 
cheap  and  wretched  carrahas,  in  which  twenty  persons 
are  jolted  together,  and  the  rate  of  travel  is  but  two  or 
three  miles  an  hour;  while  on  the  road  to  Versailles,  the 
active  postillions  known  as  e7irages  will  take  you  to  the 
royal  town  and  back,  a  distance  of  twenty  miles,  and  give 
you  time  to  call  on  a  minister  of  state,  all  within  three 
hours.  ^ 

Between  half  past  two  and  three,  people  of  fashion  are 
sitting  down  to  dinner,  following  the  mysterious  law  of 
their  nature  which  makes  them  do  everything  an  hour  or 
two  later  in  the  day  than  other  mortals.  At  quarter  past 
five  the  streets  are  full  again.  People  are  on  their  way 
to  the  theatre,  or  going  for  a  drive  in  the  boulevards,  and 
the  coffee-houses  are  filling.  As  daylight  fails,  bands  of 
carpenters  and  masons  plod  heavily  toward  the  suburbs, 
shaking  the  lime  from  their  heavy  shoes.  At  nine  in  the 
evening  people  are  going  to  supper,  and  the  streets  are 
more  disorderly  than  at  any  time  in  the  day.  The  scan- 
dalous scenes  which  have  disappeared  from  modern  Paris, 
but  which  are  still  visible  in  London,  were  in  the  last 
century  allowed  early  in  the  evening;  but  long  before 
midnight  the  police  had  driven  all  disorderly  characters 
from  the  streets.  At  eleven  the  coffee-houses  are  clos- 
ing; the  town  is  quiet,  only  to  be  awakened  from  time 
to  time  by  the  carriages  of  the  rich  going  home  after  late 
suppers,  or  by  the  tramp  of  the  beasts  of  burden  of  the 
six  thousand  peasants  who  nightly  bring  vegetables,  fruit, 
and  flowers  into  the  great  city.^ 

1  Mercier,  vii.  114,  228,  ix.  1,  266,  xi.  17,  xii.  253.    Chdrest,  ii.  166. 

2  Ibid.,  iv.  148. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE   PROVINCIAL  TOWNS. 

The  provincial  towns  in  France  under  Louis  XVI.  were 
only  beginning  to  assume  a  modern  appearance.  Built 
originally  within  walls,  their  houses  had  been  tall,  their 
streets  narrow,  crooked,  and  dirty.  But  in  the  eighteenth 
century  most  of  the  walls  had  been  pulled  down,  and 
public  walks  or  drives  laid  out  on  their  sites.  The  idea 
that  the  beauty  of  cities  consists  largely  in  the  breadth 
and  straightness  of  their  streets  had  taken  a  firm  hold  on 
the  public  mind.  This  idea,  if  not  more  thoroughly  car- 
ried out  than  it  can  be  in  an  old  town,  has  much  in  its 
favor.  Before  the  French  Revolution  the  broad,  dusty, 
modern  avenues,  which  allow  free  passage  to  men  and 
carriages  and  free  entrance  to  light  and  air,  but  where 
there  is  little  shade  from  the  sun  or  shelter  from  the  wind, 
were  beginning  to  supersede  the  cooler  and  less  windy,  but 
malodorous  lanes  where  the  busy  life  of  the  Middle  Ages 
had  found  shelter.  Large  and  imposing  public  buildings 
were  constructed  in  many  towns,  facing  on  the  public 
squares.  With  the  artistic  thoroughness  which  belongs 
to  the  French  mind,  the  fronts  of  the  surrounding  private 
houses  were  made  to  conform  in  style  to  those  of  their 
prouder  neighbors.  The  streets  were  lighted,  although 
rather  dimly ;  their  names  were  written  at  their  corners, 
and  in  some  instances  the  houses  were  numbered. 

But  such  innovations  did  not  touch  every  provincial 
town,  nor  cover  the  whole  of  the  places  which  they  entered. 
More  commonly,  the  old  appearance  of  the  streets  was 
little  changed.     The  houses  jutted  out  into  the  narrow 


176     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

way,  with  all  manner  of  inexplicable  corners  and  angles. 
The  shop  windows  were  unglazed,  and  shaded  only  by  a 
wooden  pent-house,  or  by  the  upper  half  of  a  shutter. 
The  other  half  might  be  lowered  to  form  a  shelf,  from 
which  the  wares  could  overrun  well  into  the  roadway. 
Near  the  wooden  sign  which  creaked  overhead  stood  a 
statue  of  the  Virgin  or  a  saint.  Glancing  into  the  dimly- 
lighted  shop,  you  might  see  the  master  working  at  his 
trade,  with  a  journeyman  and  an  apprentice.  The  busy 
housewife  bustled  to  and  fro;  now  chaffering  with  a  cus- 
tomer at  the  shop-door,  now  cooking  the  dinner,  or  scold- 
ing the  red-armed  maid,  in  the  kitchen. ^ 

The  house  was  only  one  room  wide,  but  several  stories 
high.  Upstairs  were  the  chambers  and  perhaps  a  sitting- 
room.  Even  among  people  of  moderate  means  the  modern 
division  of  rooms  was  coming  into  fashion,  and  beds  were 
being  banished  from  kitchens  and  parlors.  There  were 
more  beds  also,  and  fewer  people  in  each,  than  in  former 
years.  On  the  walls  of  the  rooms  paint  and  paper  were 
taking  the  place  of  tapestry,  and  light  colors,  with  bright- 
ness and  cleanliness,  were  displacing  soft  dark  tones,  dirt^ 
and  vermin. 2 

Houses  were  thinly  built  and  doors  and  windows  rattled 
in  their  frames.  The  rooms  in  the  greater  part  of  France 
were  heated  only  by  open  fires,  although  stoves  of  brick 
or  glazed  pottery  were  in  common  use  in  Switzerland  and 
Germany;  and  wood  was  scarce  and  dear.  In  countries 
where  the  winter  is  short  and  sharp,  people  bear  it  with 
what  patience  they  may,  instead  of  providing  against  it, 
as  is  necessary  where  the  cold  is  more  severe  and  pro- 
longed. Thicker  clothes  were  worn  in  the  house  than 
when  moving  about  in  the  streets.  Wadded  slippers  pro- 
tected the  feet  against  the  chill  of  the  brick  floors,  and 

1  Babeau,  La  Ville,  363.  Ibid.,  Les  Artisans,  73,  82.  Viollet  le 
Due,  Diet,  d' Architecture  (Boutique.) 

2  Babeau,  Les  Bourgeois,  9,  19,  37. 


THE   PROVINCIAL   TOWNS.  177 

the  old  sat  in  high-backed  chairs  to  cut  off  the  draft,  with 
footstools  under  their  feet.  Chilblains  were,  and  are  still, 
a  constant  annoyance  of  European  winter.  The  dressing- 
gown  was  in  fashion  in  France  as  in  America,  where  we 
frequently  see  it  in  portraits  of  the  last  century.  Similar 
garments  had  been  in  use  in  the  Middle  Ages.  They 
belong  to  cold  houses.^ 

The  dress  of  the  working-classes,  which  had  been  very 
brilliant  at  the  time  of  the  Kenaissance,  had  become 
sombre  in  the  seventeenth  century,  but  was  regaining 
brilliancy  in  the  eighteenth.  The  townspeople  dressed 
in  less  bright  colors  than  the  peasants  of  the  country,  but 
not  cheaply  in  proportion  to  their  means.  Already  social 
distinctions  were  disappearing  from  costume,  and  it  was 
remarked  that  a  master-workman,  of  a  Sunday,  in  his 
black  coat  and  powdered  hair,  might  be  mistaken  for  a 
magistrate ;  while  the  wife  of  a  rich  burgher  was  hardly 
distinguishable  from  a  noblewoman.^ 

Great  thrift  was  practiced  by  the  poorer  townspeople  of 
the  middle  class,  but  their  lives  were  not  without  comfort. 
We  read  of  a  family  in  a  small  town  of  Auvergne  before 
the  middle  of  the  century,  composed  of  a  man  and  his 
wife,  with  a  large  number  of  children,  the  wife's  mother, 
her  two  grandmothers,  her  three  aunts,  and  her  sister,  all 
sitting  about  one  table,  and  living  on  one  modest  income. 
The  husband  and  father  had  a  small  business  and  o^vned 
a  garden  and  a  little  farm.  In  the  garden  almost  enough 
vegetables  were  raised  for  the  use  of  the  family.  Quinces, 
apples,  and  pears  were  preserved  in  honey  for  the  winter. 
The  wool  of  their  own  sheep  was  spun  by  the  women,  and 
so  was  the  flax  of  their  field,  which  the  neighbors  helped 

^  Babeau,  Les  Artisans,  123.  In  1695  the  water  and  wine  froze 
on  the  king's  table  at  Versailles,  Les  Bourgeois,  23. 

^  Babeau,  Les  Artisans,  13,  199.  Handiwork  was  very  cheap. 
Babeau  gives  the  bill  for  a  black  gown  costing  210  livres  15  sous,  of 
which  only  3  livres  was  for  the  making  ;  Les  Bourgeois,  169  n. 


178     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

tliem  to  strip  of  an  evening.  From  the  walnuts  of  their 
trees  they  pressed  oil  for  the  table  and  for  the  lamp. 
The  great  chestnuts  were  boiled  for  food.  The  bread 
also  was  made  of  their  own  grain,  and  the  wine  of  their 
own  grapes. 

In  the  country  towns,  among  people  of  small  means,  a 
healthy  freedom  was  allowed  to  boys  and  girls.  There 
were  moonlight  walks  and  singing  parties.  Love  matches 
resulted  from  thus  throwing  the  young  people  together, 
and  were  found  not  to  turn  out  worse  than  other  mar- 
riages. But  in  large  towns  matches  were  still  arranged 
by  parents,  and  the  girls  were  educated  rather  to  please 
the  older  people  than  the  young  men,  for  it  was  the  elders 
who  would  find  husbands  for  them.^ 

Amusements  were  simple  and  rational  in  the  cultivated 
middle  class.  People  in  the  provinces  were  not  above 
enjoying  amateur  music  and  recitation,  and  the  fashion 
of  singing  songs  at  table,  which  was  going  out  of  vogue  in 
Paris,  still  held  its  own  in  smaller  places.  A  literary 
flavor,  which  has  now  disappeared,  pervaded  provincial 
society.  People  wrote  verses  and  made  quotations.  But 
this  did  not  prevent  less  intellectual  pleasures.  Players 
sometimes  spent  eighteen  out  of  the  twenty -four  hours 
at  the  card -table.  Balls  were  given  either  by  private 
persons  or  by  subscription.  Dancing  would  begin  at  six 
and  last  well  into  the  next  morning ;  for  the  dwellers  in 
small  towns  will  give  themselves  up  to  an  occupation 
or  an  amusement  with  a  thoroughness  which  the  more 
hurried  life  of  a  capital  will  not  allow.  The  local  no- 
bility, and  the  upper  ranks  of  the  burgher  class,  the  offi- 
cers, magistrates,  civil  functionaries  and  their  families, 
met  at  these  balls ;  for  social  equality  was  gaining  ground 
in  France.  The  shopkeepers  and  attorneys  contented 
themselves,  as  a  rule,  with  quieter  pleasures,  excursions 
into  the  country,  theatres,  visits,  and  little  supper  par- 
1  Marmontel,  i.  10,  51.    Babeau,  Les  Bourgeois,  315. 


THE   PROVINCIAL   TOWNS.  179 

ties.  Dancing  in  the  open  air  and  street  shows,  in 
which  once  all  classes  had  taken  part,  were  now  left  to 
the  poor.^ 

The  journeyman  sometimes  lived  v/ith  his  master,  some- 
times had  a  room  of  his  own  in  another  part  of  the  town. 
He  dressed  poorly  and  lived  hard ;  but  generally  had  his 
wine.  Bread  and  vegetables  formed  the  solid  part  of 
his  diet,  beans  being  a  favorite  article  of  food.  Wages 
appear  to  have  been  about  twenty-six  sous  a  day  for 
men,  and  fifteen  for  women  on  an  average,  the  value  of 
money  being  perhaps  twice  what  it  is  now,  but  the  varia- 
tions were  great  from  town  to  town.  The  hours  of  work 
were  long.  People  were  up  at  four  in  the  summer  morn- 
ings, in  provincial  towns,  and  did  not  stop  working  until 
nine  at  night.  But  the  work  was  the  varied  and  leisurely 
work  of  home,  not  the  monotonous  drudgery  of  the  great 
factory.  Moreover,  holidays  were  more  than  plenty, 
averaging  two  a  week  throughout  the  year.  The  French 
workman  kept  them  with  song  and  dance  and  wine ;  but 
drunkenness  and  riot  were  uncommon. ^ 

The  workman's  chance  of  rising  in  his  trade  was  far 
better  than  it  is  now.  There  were  not  twice  as  many 
journeymen  as  masters.^  The  capital  required  for  set- 
ting up  in  business  was  small,  although  the  fees  were 
relatively  large ;  the  police  had  to  be  paid  for  a  license ; 
and  the  guilds  for  admission. 

These  jruilds  reg^ulated  all  the  trade  and  manufactures 
of  the  country.  They  held  strict  monopolies,  and  no  man 
was  allowed  to  exercise  any  handicraft  as  a  master  with- 
out being  a  member  of  one  of  them.     The  guilds  were 

1  Babeau,  Les  Bourgeois,  209,  225,  241,  305. 

2  Babeau,  Les  Artisans,  21,  34.    A.  Young,  i.  565. 

8  Babeau,  Les  Artisans,  63.  Perhaps  more  workmen  under  Louis 
XVI.  Manufactures  on  a  larger  scale  were  coming  in.  At  Mar- 
seilles, 65  soap  factories  employed  1000  men  ;  60  hatters,  800  men  and 
400  women.  Julliany,  i.  85.  But  Marseilles  was  a  large  city.  In 
smaller  places  the  old  domestic  trades  still  held  their  ground. 


180  THE   EVE   OF   THE   FRENCH   REVOLUTION. 

continually  squabbling.  Thus  it  was  an  unceasing  com- 
plaint of  the  shoemakers  against  the  cobblers  that  the 
latter  sold  new  shoes  as  well  as  second-hand,  a  practice 
contrary  to  the  high  privileges  of  the  shoemakers'  corpo- 
ration. Sometimes  the  civil  authorities  were  called  on  to 
interfere.  We  find  the  trimming-makers  of  Paris,  who 
have  the  right  to  make  silk  buttons,  obtaining  a  regula= 
tion  which  forbids  all  persons  wearing  buttons  of  the 
same  cloth  as  their  coats,  or  buttons  that  are  cast,  turned 
or  made  of  horn. 

Minute  regulations  governed  manufactures  exercised 
within  the  guilds.  The  number  of  threads  to  the  inch 
in  cloth  of  various  names  and  kinds  was  strictly  regulated. 
New  inventions  made  their  way  with  difficulty  against  the 
vested  rights  of  these  corporations.  Thus  Le  Prevost, 
who  invented  the  use  of  silk  in  making  hats,  was  exposed 
to  all  sorts  of  opposition  from  the  other  hatters,  who  said 
that  he  infringed  their  privileges;  but  he  overcame  it 
by  perseverance,  and  finally  made  a  large  fortune.  The 
regulations  served  to  keep  up  the  standard  of  excellence 
in  manufacture,  which  probably  fell  in  some  respects  on 
their  abolition.  They  were  often  made  to  benefit  the 
masters  at  the  exj)ense  of  the  workmen,  who  on  their  side 
formed  secret  combinations  of  their  own,  fighting  by 
much  the  same  methods  as  such  unions  employ  to-day. 
Thus  in  1783  the  journeymen  paper -makers  instituted  a 
system  of  fines  on  their  masters,  which  they  enforced  by 
deserting  in  a  body  the  service  of  those  who  resisted 
them.^ 

The  successful  master  of  a  trade,  as  he  grew  rich,  might 
pass  into  the  upper  middle  class,  the  haute  bourgeoisie. 
He  became  a  manufacturer,  a  merchant,  perhaps  even, 
when  he  retired  on  his  fortune,  a  royal  secretary,  with  a 
patent  of  hereditary  nobility.     His  children,  instead  of 

^  Babeau,  Les  Artisans,  51,  108,  202,  239.  Levasseur,  ii.  353. 
Turgot,  iii.  328,  347.     (Eloge  de  M.  de  Gournay),  Mercier,  xi.  363. 


THE   PROVINCIAL   TOWNS.  181 

leaving  school  when  they  had  learned  to  read,  write  and 
cipher,  and  had  taken  their  first  communion,  stayed  on, 
or  were  promoted  to  a  higher  school,  to  learn  Latin  and 
Greek.  His  wife  was  called  Madame,  like  a  duchess. 
She  had  probably  assisted  in  his  rise,  not  only  by  good 
advice  and  domestic  frugality,  but  by  the  arts  of  a  sales- 
woman and  by  her  talent  for  business.  Should  he  die 
while  his  sons  were  young,  she  understood  his  affairs  and 
could  carry  them  on  for  her  own  benefit  and  for  that  of 
her  children.  No  longer  a  single  maidservant,  red  in  the 
face  and  slatternly  about  the  skirts,  clatters  among  the 
pots  in  the  little  dark  kitchen  behind  the  shop,  or  stands 
with  her  arms  akimbo  giving  advice  to  her  mistress.  The 
successful  man  has  mounted  his  house  on  a  larger  scale, 
and  if  the  insolent  lackeys  of  the  great  do  not  hang  about 
his  door,  there  are  at  least  one  or  two  of  those  quiet 
and  attentive  old  men-servants,  whose  respectful  and  self- 
respecting  familiarity  adds  at  once  to  the  comfort  and  the 
dignity  of  life.^ 

It  was  not  within  the  walls  of  his  own  house  alone  that 
the  burgher  might  be  a  man  of  importance.  The  towns 
retained  to  the  end  of  the  monarchy  a  few  of  the  rights 
for  which  they  had  struggled  in  earlier  and  rougher  times. 
Assemblies  differently  composed  in  different  places,  but 
sometimes  representing  the  guilds  and  fraternities  and 
sometimes  made  up  of  the  whole  body  of  citizens,  took  a 
part  in  the  government  of  the  town.  They  voted  on 
loans,  on  the  conduct  of  the  city's  lawsuits,  and  on  muni- 
cipal business  generally.  Officers  were  chosen  in  various 
ways,  some  of  them  by  very  complicated  forms  of  election, 
and  some  by  throwing  of  lots.  These  officers  bore  different 
titles  in  different  places,  as  consuls,  echevins,  syndics,  or 
jurats.  They  sometimes  exercised  considerable  executive 
and  judicial  powers,  controlling  the  ordinary  police  of  the 
city.  Their  perquisites  and  privileges  varied  from  town 
1  Babeau,  Les  Artisans,  158,  1G7, 181,  204,  271. 


182     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

to  town,  with  the  color  of  their  official  robes,  and  the 
ceremonies  of  their  installation.  The  cities  valued  their 
ancient  rights,  shorn  as  they  were  of  much  substantial 
importance  by  the  centralizing  servants  of  the  crown ;  and 
repeatedly  bought  them  back  from  the  king,  as  time  after 
time  the  old  offices  were  abolished,  and  new-fashioned 
purchasable  mayoralties  set  up  in  their  stead.  ^ 

The  municipal  authorities  shared  with  the  clergy  the 
control  of  education  and  the  care  of  the  poor  and  the  sick. 
The  last  were  collected  in  large  hospitals,  many  of  which 
were  inefficiently  managed. ^  It  must  always  be  borne  in 
mind,  when  thinking  of  the  daily  life  of  the  past,  that  in 
old  times,  and  even  so  late  as  the  second  haK  of  the  last 
century,  a  high  degree  of  civilization  and  a  great  deal  of 
luxury  were  not  inconsistent  with  an  almost  entire  disre- 
gard of  what  we  are  in  the  habit  of  considering  essential 
conveniences.  Comfort,  indeed,  has  been  well  said  to  be 
a  modern  word  for  a  modern  idea.  Dirt  and  smells  were 
so  common,  even  a  hundred  years  ago,  as  hardly  to  be 
noticed,  and  diseases  arising  from  filth  and  foul  air  were 
borne  as  unavoidable  dispensations  of  divine  wrath.  Yet 
some  advance  had  been  made.  Baths  had  been  absolutely 
essential  in  the  Middle  Ages  when  every  one  wore  wool ; 
the  result  of  the  common  use  of  linen  had  been  at  first  to 
put  them  out  of  fashion;  under  Louis  XVI.  they  were 
coming  in  again.  The  itch,  so  common  in  Auvergne 
early  in  the  century  that  in  the  schools  a  separate  bench 

1  Babeau,  La  Ville,  39.  When  the  towns  bought  in  the  office  of 
mayor,  they  had  to  name  an  incumbent,  and  the  town  owned  the  office 
only  for  his  lifetime  and  had  to  buy  it  in  again  on  his  death.  Ibid., 
81.  This  looks  as  if  the  royal  office  of  mayor  were  not  hereditary, 
in  spite  of  the  Edit  de  la  Paulette.  Where  no  other  purchaser  came 
forward,  the  towns  were  obliged  to  buy  the  office.    Ihid.^  79. 

2  There  were  great  differences  from  place  to  place.  Howard, 
passim.  The  hospital,  poor-house,  etc.,  at  Dijon  were  good  ;  the  hos- 
pital at  Lyons  large,  but  close  and  dirty.  Rigby,  102,  113.  Muir- 
head,  156. 


THE   PROVINCIAL   TOA\T^S.  183 

was  set  apart  for  the  pupils  who  had  it,  was  almost  un- 
known in  1786.  Leprosy  had  nearly  disappeared  from 
France  before  the  end  of  the  seventeenth  century.  The 
plague  was  still  an  occasional  visitant  in  the  first  quarter 
of  the  eighteenth,  in  spite  of  rigorous  quarantine  regula- 
tions. On  its  approach  towns  shut  their  gates  and  manned 
their  walls,  and  the  startled  authorities  took  to  cleansing 
and  whitewashing.  In  1722,  the  doctors  of  Marseilles 
went  about  dressed  in  Turkey  morocco,  with  gloves  and  a 
mask  of  the  same  material;  the  mask  had  glass  eyes, 
and  a  big  nose  full  of  disinfectants.  How  the  sight  of 
this  costume  affected  the  patients  is  not  mentioned.  When 
the  plague  was  over,  the  Te  Deum  was  sung,  and  pro- 
cessions took  their  way  to  the  shrine  of  Saint  Roch.^ 

Schools  were  established  in  every  town.  The  school- 
masters formed  a  guild,  the  writing-masters  another,  and 
neither  was  allowed  to  infringe  the  prerogatives  of  its 
rival.  The  schoolmasters  in  towns  were  generally  ap- 
pointed by  the  clergy,  but  the  municipal  government  kept 
a  certain  control.  A  good  deal  of  the  teaching  of  boys 
was  done  by  Brotherhoods,  while  that  of  girls  was  almost 
entirely  entrusted  to  Sisters.  In  many  places  primary 
instruction  was  free  and  obligatory,  at  least  in  name. 
The  law  making  it  so  had  been  passed  under  Louis  XIV. , 
for  the  purpose  of  bringing  the  children  of  Protestants 
under  Catholic  teaching;  but  this  law  was  not  always 
■  mf  orced.  In  northern  France,  there  were  evening  schools 
for  adults,  and  Sunday  schools  where  reading  and  writing 
was  taught,  probably  to  children  employed  in  trades  dur- 
ing the  week.  A  certain  amount  of  religious  instruction 
jyreceded  the  ceremony  of  the  "first  communion."  As 
to  secondary  or  advanced  schools,  they  are  said  to  have 
been  more  numerous  and  accessible  in  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury than  now,  when  they  have  mostly  been  consolidated 
in  the  larger  cities.  There  were  five  hundred  and  sixty- 
1  Babeau,  Les  Bourgeois,  111.    Ibid.,  La  V'dle,  443. 


184     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

two  establishments  reckoned  as  secondary  in  France  in 
1789,  about  one  third  of  them  being  in  the  hands  of  Bro- 
therhoods. There  were  also  many  private  schools  licensed 
by  the  municipal  authorities.  The  boys  when  away  from 
home  lived  very  simply  indeed.  Marmontel,  who  was 
sent  from  his  own  little  towTi  to  attend  the  school  at  a 
neighboring  one,  has  left  a  description  of  his  mode  of  life. 
"I  was  lodged  according  to  the  custom  of  the  school  with 
five  other  scholars,  at  the  house  of  an  honest  artisan  of 
the  town ;  and  my  father,  sad  enough  at  going  away  with- 
out me,  left  with  me  my  package  of  provisions  for  the 
week.  They  consisted  of  a  big  loaf  of  rye-bread,  a  small 
cheese,  a  piece  of  bacon  and  two  or  three  pounds  of  beef; 
my  mother  had  added  a  dozen  apples.  This,  once  for  all, 
was  the  allowance  of  the  best  fed  scholars  in  the  school. 
The  woman  of  the  house  cooked  for  us ;  and  for  her  trouble, 
her  fire,  her  lamp,  her  beds,  her  lodging  and  even  the  veg- 
etables from  her  little  garden  which  she  put  in  the  pot,  we 
gave  her  twenty-five  sous  apiece  a  month ;  so  ttiat  all  told, 
except  for  my  clothing,  I  might  cost  my  father  from  four 
to  five  louis  a  year."  This  was  about  1733,  and  the  style 
of  living  may  have  risen  a  little,  even  for  schoolboys,  dur- 
ing the  following  half  century.  The  sons  of  professional 
men  and  people  of  the  middle  class  were  better  off  in 
respect  to  education  than  most  young  nobles;  as  the 
former  were  sent  to  good  schools,  while  the  latter  were 
brought  up  at  home  by  incompetent  tutors.  It  would 
appear  to  have  been  easy  enough  for  a  boy  to  get  an  edu- 
cation ;  harder  for  a  girl.  But  no  one  who  has  glanced  at 
the  literature  of  the  time  will  imagine  that  France  was 
then  destitute  of  clever  women.  ^ 

In  the  eighteenth  century  great  changes  were  taking 
place  in  the  national  life.  Simple  artisans  presumed  to 
be  more  comfortable  in  1789  than  the  first  people  of  the 

1  Babeau,  La  Ville,  482.  Ibid.,  Les  Bourgeois,  369.  Marmontel, 
i.  16.     Moutbarey,  i.  280.     Ch.  de  Ribbe,  i.  320. 


THE  PROVINCIAL   TOWNS.  185 

town  had  been  fifty  years  before.  The  middle  class  lived 
in  many  respects  like  the  nobility,  with  material  luxuries 
and  intellectual  pleasures.  Yet  the  artificial  barriers  were 
still  maintained.  The  citizen,  unless  of  noble  birth,  was 
excluded  not  only  from  the  army,  but  from  the  higher 
positions  in  the  administration  and  in  the  legal  profession. 
The  nobility  of  the  gown  was  liable  to  be  treated  with 
alternate  familiarity  and  impertinence  by  that  of  the  sword 
or  by  that  of  the  court.  The  last  held  most  of  the  posi- 
tions which  strongly  appealed  to  vanity,  many  of  those 
which  bore  the  largest  profit.  Jealousy  is  possible  only 
where  persons  or  classes  come  near  each  other,  and  before 
the  Revolution  the  various  classes  in  France  were  rapidly 
drawing  together. 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

THE   COUNTRY. 


There  is  perhaps  no  great  country  inhabited  by  civil- 
ized man  more  favored  by  nature  than  France.  Possess- 
ing every  variety  of  surface  from  the  sublime  mountain 
to  the  shifting  sand-dune,  from  the  loamy  plain  to  the 
precipitous  rock,  the  land  is  smiled  upon  by  a  climate  in 
which  the  extremes  of  heat  and  cold  are  of  rare  occur- 
rence. The  grape  will  ripen  over  the  greater  part  of  the 
country,  the  orange  and  the  olive  in  its  southeastern  cor- 
ner. The  deep  soil  of  many  provinces  gives  ample  return 
to  the  labor  of  the  husbandman.  If  the  inhabitants  of 
such  a  country  are  not  prosperous,  surely  the  fault  lies 
rather  with  man  than  with  nature. 

It  has  been  the  fashion  to  represent  the  French  peasant 
before  the  Revolution  as  a  miserable  and  starving  crea- 
ture. "One  sees  certain  wild  animals,  male  and  female, 
scattered  about  the  country;  black,  livid  and  all  burnt 
by  the  sun ;  attached  to  the  earth  in  which  they  dig  with 
invincible  obstinacy.  They  have  something  like  an  artic- 
ulate voice,  and  when  they  rise  on  their  feet  they  show  a 
human  face ;  and  in  fact  they  are  men.  They  retire  at 
night  into  dens,  where  they  live  on  black  bread,  water, 
and  roots.  They  spare  other  men  the  trouble  of  sowing, 
digging  and  harvesting  to  live,  and  thus  deserve  not  to 
lack  that  bread  which  they  have  sown."  This  description, 
eloquently  written  by  La  Bruyere,  has  been  quoted  by  a 
hundred  authors.  Some  have  used  it  to  embellish  their 
books  with  a  sensational  paragraph ;  others,  and  they  are 
many,  to  show  from  what  wretchedness  the  French  nation 
has  been  delivered  by  its  Revolution. 


THE   COUNTRY.  187 

The  advances  o£  the  last  hundred  years  are  many  and 
great,  but  it  is  not  necessary  therefore  to  believe  that  in 
three  generations  a  great  nation  has  emerged  from  sav- 
agery. Let  us  see  what  part  of  La  Bruyere's  description 
may  be  set  down  to  rhetoric,  and  to  the  astonishment  of  the 
scholar  who  looks  hard  at  a  countryman  for  the  first  time. 
Undoubtedly  the  peasant  is  sunburnt ;  unquestionably  he 
is  dirty.  His  speech  falls  roughly  on  a  town -bred  ear ; 
his  features  have  been  made  coarse  by  exposure.  His  hut 
is  far  less  comfortable  than  a  city  house.  His  food  is 
coarse,  and  not  always  j^lentiful.  All  these  things  may 
be  true,  and  yet  the  peasant  may  be  intelligent  and  civil- 
ized. He  may  be  as  happy  as  most  of  the  toilers  upon 
earth.  He  may  have  his  days  of  comfort,  his  hours  of 
enjoyment. 

While  the  French  writers  of  the  eighteenth  century  find 
fault  with  many  things  in  the  condition  of  the  peasant, 
their  general  opinion  of  his  lot  is  not  unfavorable.  Vol- 
taire thinks  him  well  off  on  the  whole.  Eousseau  is  con- 
stantly vauntmg  not  only  the  morality  but  the  happiness 
of  rural  life.  Mirabeau  the  elder  says  that  gayety  is  dis- 
appearing, perhaps  because  the  people  are  too  rich,  and 
argues  that  France  is  not  decrej^it  but  vigorous.^ 

"  The  general  appearance  of  the  people  is  different  to 
what  I  expected,"  writes  an  English  traveler,  to  his  fam- 
ily, in  1789;  "they  are  strong  and  well  made.  We  saw 
many  most  agreeable  scenes  as  we  passed  along  in  the 
evening  before  we  came  to  Lisle :  little  parties  sitting  at 
their  doors;  some  of  the  men  smoking,  some  playing  at 
cards  in  the  open  air,  and  others  spinning  cotton.  Every- 
thing we  see  bears  the  mark  of  industry,  and  all  the 
people  look  happy.  We  have  indeed  seen  few  signs  of 
opulence  in  individuals,  for  we  do  not  see  so  many  gen- 

^  La  BruY^re,  Caracterea,  ii.  Gl  (de  Vhomme).  Voltaire,  passim, 
xxxi.  481,  Diet,  philos.  {Population).  Mirabeau,  Uami  des  hommes, 
31G,  325,  328. 


188  THE   EVE   OF   THE   FRENCH   REVOLUTION. 

tlemen's  seats  as  in  England,  but  we  have  seen  few  of 
the  lower  classes  in  rags,  idleness,  and  misery.  What 
strange  prejudices  we  are  apt  to  take  concerning  foreign- 
ers !  I  will  own  that  I  used  to  think  that  the  French  were 
a  trifling,  insignificant  people,  that  they  were  meagre  in 
their  appearance,  and  lived  in  a  state  of  wretchedness 
from  being  oppressed  by  their  superiors.  What  we  have 
already  seen  contradicts  this;^  the  men  are  strong  and 
athletic,  and  the  face  of  the  country  shows  that  industry 
is  not  discouraged.  The  women,  too,  —  I  speak  of  the 
lower  class,  which  in  all  countries  is  the  largest  and  the 
most  useful,  —  are  strong  and  well  made,  and  seem  to  do 
a  great  deal  of  labor,  especially  in  the  country.  They 
carry  great  loads  and  seem  to  be  employed  to  go  to  market 
with  the  produce  of  the  fields  and  gardens  on  their  backs. 
An  Englishwoman  would,  perhaps,  think  this  hard,  but 
the  cottagers  in  England  are  certainly  not  so  well  off ;  I 
am  sure  they  do  not  look  so  happy.  These  women  with 
large  and  heavy  baskets  on  their  backs  have  all  very  good 
caps  on,  their  hair  powdered,  earrings,  necklaces,  and 
crosses.  We  have  not  yet  seen  one  with  a  hat  on.  What 
strikes  me  most  in  what  I  have  seen  is  the  wonderful 
difference  between  this  country  and  England.  I  don't 
know  what  we  may  think  by  and  by,  but  at  present  the 
difference  seems  to  be  in  favor  of  the  former ;  if  they  are 
not  happy  they  look  at  least  very  like  it." 

"We  have  now  traveled  between  four  and  five  hundred 
miles  in  France,"  says  the  same  traveler  in  another 
place,  "and  have  hardly  seen  an  acre  uncultivated,  except 
two  forests  and  parks,  the  one  belonging  to  the  Prince  of 
Conde,  as  I  mentioned  in  a  former  letter,  the  other  to  the 
king  of  France  at  Fontainebleau,  and  these  are  covered 
with  woods.  In  every  place  almost  every  inch  has  been 
ploughed  or  dug,  and  at  this  time  appears  to  be  pressed 

1  Observe  that  this  was  written  in  French  Flanders.  Note  by  Dr. 
Rigby. 


THE   COUNTRY.  189 

with  the  weight  of  the  incumbent  crop.  On  the  roads,  to 
the  very  edge  where  the  travelers'  wheels  pass,  and  on  the 
hills  to  the  very  summit,  may  be  seen  the  effects  of  human 
industry.  Since  we  left  Paris  we  have  come  through  a 
country  where  the  vine  is  cidtivated.  This  grows  on  the 
sides  and  even  on  the  tops  of  the  highest  hills.  It  will 
also  flourish  where  the  soil  is  too  poor  to  bear  corn,  and 
on  the  sides  of  precipices  where  no  animal  could  draw  the 
plough."! 

Let  us  now  turn  to  the  other  end  of  France,  and  hear 
another  traveler,  one  generally  less  enthusiastic  than  the 
last.  "The  vintage  itself,"  says  Arthur  Young,  "can 
hardly  be  such  a  scene  of  activity  and  animation,  as  this 
universal  one  of  treading  out  the  corn,  with  which  all  the 
towns  and  villages  in  Languedoc  are  now  alive.  The 
corn  is  all  roughly  stacked  around  a  dry,  firm  spot,  where 
great  nmnbers  of  mules  and  horses  are  driven  on  a  trot 
round  a  centre,  a  woman  holding  the  reins,  and  another, 
or  a  girl  or  two,  with  whips  drive ;  the  men  supply  and 
clear  the  floor;  other  parties  are  dressing,  by  throwing 
the  corn  into  the  air  for  the  wind  to  blow  away  the  chaff. 
Every  soul  is  employed,  and  with  such  an  air  of  cheerful- 
ness, that  the  people  seem  as  well  pleased  with  their  labor, 
as  the  farmer  himself  with  his  great  heaps  of  wheat.  The 
scene  is  uncommonly  animated  and  joyous.  I  stopped 
and  alighted  often  to  see  their  method;  I  was  always 
very  civilly  treated,  and  my  wishes  for  a  good  price  for 
the  farmer,  and  not  too  good  a  one  for  the  poor,  well 
received.  "2 

These  descriptions  would  give  too  favorable  an  idea  if 
they  were  taken  for  the  whole  of  France.  All  peasant 
women  did  not  powder  their  hair  and  wear  earrings. 
Those  of  France  did  much  more  field  -  work  than  those 
of  England.     Their  figures  became  bent,  their  general 

1  Dr.  Rigby,  11,  96.     See  also  Sir  George  Collier,  21. 

2  Arthur  Young,  i.  45  (July  24,  1787). 


190  THE   EVE   OF  THE   FRENCH   REVOLUTION. 

appearance  worn;  an  English  observer,  accustomed  to 
the  more  ruddy  faces  of  his  countrywomen,  might  set 
them  down  for  twice  their  age.  They  often  went  barefoot, 
and  on  their  way  to  market  carried  their  shoes  on  a  stick 
until  they  drew  near  the  town.  They  had  to  be  thrifty, 
and  might  be  seen  picking  weeds  on  the  wayside  into  their 
aprons,  to  feed  their  cows.  All  provinces  were  not  so 
rich  as  Flanders.  There  were  vast  stretches  of  waste  land 
in  France,  given  up  to  broom  and  heath.  Wolves  and 
bears  were  still  a  terror  to  remote  farms.  There  were, 
moreover,  times  of  famine,  which  the  foolish  regulations 
of  the  government  aggravated,  by  preventing  the  free 
movement  of  provisions  within  the  country.  In  some 
provinces  these  seasons  of  famine  were  often  repeated. 
Then  the  wretched  inhabitants  sank  into  despair.  Young 
people  would  refuse  to  marry,  saying  that  it  was  not 
worth  while  to  bring  unfortunate  children  into  the  world. 
But  in  general  the  country  people  were  laborious  and 
happy,  with  enough  for  their  daily  needs,  and  often 
merry,  —  resembling  in  that  respect  the  English  before 
the  Puritan  revival  rather  than  the  Anglo-Saxons  of  more 
modern  times.  ^ 

In  the  country,  as  in  the  towns,  prosperity  and  material 
well-being  were  slowly  increasing.  The  latter  years  of 
King  Louis  XIV.  had  been  years  of  depression  and  mis- 
ery. External  wars,  and  the  persecution  of  the  Protest- 
ants at  home,  heavy  taxation  and  bad  government,  had 
reduced  the  numbers  and  the  wealth  of  the  French  nation. 
But  with  the  accession  of  Louis  XY.  in  1715,  a  time  of 

1  A.  Young,  i.  6  (May  22,1787).  Ibid.,  i.  45  (July  24,  1787),  i.  18, 
(June  10,  1787),  i.  28  (June  28,  1787).  D'Argenson,  vi.  49  (Oct. 
4,  1749),  vi.  322  (Dec.  28,  1850),  vii.  55  (Dec.  22,  1751),  viii.  8, 
35,  233,  ix.  160.  Turgot  (iv.  274)  reckons  that  in  Limousin,  1766,  the 
laborers'  families  did  not  have  more  than  25  to  30  livres  per  person 
per  annum  for  their  support,  counting  all  they  got.  This  is  but 
l^Vo  sou  a  day,  and  bread  cost  21  sous  per  lb.  A.  Young,  i.  439. 
This  does  not  seem  possible.     The  people  lived  partly  ou  chestnuts. 


THE   COUNTRY.  191 

recuperation  had  begun.  During  the  seventy  years  that 
followed,  the  population  increased  from  about  sixteen  to 
about  twenty-six  millions.  The  rent  of  land  rose  also. 
The  natural  excellence  of  the  soil,  the  natural  intelligence 
of  the  people,  were  bringing  about  a  slow  and  uneven  im- 
provement. 1 

One  third  of  the  soil  was  covered  with  small  farms, 
which  at  the  death  of  every  proprietor  were  subdivided 
among  his  children.  By  a  curious  custom  (arising  in  I 
know  not  what  form  of  jealousy  or  caprice),  the  subdivi- 
sion was  wantonly  made  more  disastrous.  It  was  usual 
to  divide  not  only  the  whole  estate,  but  every  part  of  it 
among  the  heirs.  Thus,  if  a  peasant  died  possessed  of  six 
fields  and  left  three  children,  it  was  not  the  custom  that 
each  child  should  take  two  fields,  and  that  he  who  got 
the  best  should  make  up  the  difference  in  money  to  his 
brethren.  Perhaps  cash  was  too  scarce  for  that.  But 
every  one  of  the  six  fields  would  be  divided  into  three 
parts,  one  of  which  was  given  to  each  child,  so  that 
instead  of  six  separate  plots  of  ground,  there  were  now 
eighteen.  This  process  had  been  repeated  until  a  farm 
might  almost  be  shaded  by  a  single  cherry-tree.''^ 

The  class  of  middling  proprietors  was  very  small.  The 
incidents  to  the  holding  of  land  by  all  who  were  not  noble 
drove  rising  families  to  the  towns.  The  great  change 
that  has  come  over  the  French  country  during  the  last 
hundred  years  consists,  in  a  measure,  in  the  formation  of 
a  class  of  men  owning  farms  of  moderate  size. 

A  large  part  of  the  soil  belonged  to  the  nobles  and  the 

^  Clamageran,  iii.  464.  Bois-Guillebert,  179,  and  passim.  Horn,  1. 
The  improvement  was  not  universal.  Lorraine  is  said  to  have  lost 
prosperity  from  the  time  of  its  union  with  France  in  1737.  Mathieu, 
316. 

2  Sybel,  i.  22.  Ch^rest,  ii.  532.  Turgot,  iv.  260.  English  writers, 
from  Arthur  Young  to  Lady  Verney,  wax  eloquent  over  the  evils  of 
small  holdings. 


192  THE   EVE    OF   THE   FRENCH   REVOLUTION. 

clero-y.  The  exact  proportion  cannot  be  ascertained.  It 
has  been  stated  as  high  as  two  thirds ;  but  this  is  proba- 
bly an  exaggeration.  These  proprietors  of  the  privileged 
classes  seldom  cultivated  any  very  large  part  of  their 
land  themselves,  by  hired  workmen,  although  certain 
privileges  and  exemptions  were  allowed  to  such  as  chose 
to  keep  their  farms  in  their  own  hands.  A  few  of  them 
let  their  lands  for  a  fixed  rent  in  money.  But  the  greater 
part  of  the  cultivated  soil  which  was  owned  by  the  nobil- 
ity and  clergy  was  in  the  hands  of  metayers^  lessees  who 
paid  their  rent  in  the  shape  of  a  proportionate  part  of  the 
crops.  Sometimes  the  landlord  made  himself  responsible 
for  a  portion  of  the  taxes ;  sometimes  he  furnished  cattle 
or  farming  implements.  His  share  of  the  gross  crop  was 
usually  one  half.  The  system,  which  is  still  common  in 
some  parts  of  France,  is  considered  a  good  one  neither 
for  the  landlord  nor  for  the  tenant,  but  is  devised  princi- 
pally to  meet  the  want  of  capital  on  the  part  of  thelatter.^ 
-  We  may  imagine  the  country-houses  of  the  nobles  scat- 
tered over  the  face  of  the  country  so  that  the  traveler 
would  come  upon  one  of  them  once  in  two  or  three  miles. 
Sometimes  the  seat  of  the  lord  was  an  ancient  castle, 
with  walls  eight  feet  thick,  rising  above  the  surrounding 
forest  from  the  top  of  a  steep  hill,  dark  and  threatening, 

1  Young  reckons  that  the  price  of  arable  land  and  its  rent  are 
about  the  same  in  France  as  in  England.  The  net  revenue  is  larger 
in  France,  because  there  are  no  poor-rates  and  the  tithe  is  more 
moderate  in  that  country.  The  price  of  arable  land  he  calculates  to 
be  on  an  average  £20  per  acre  ;  rent  15  shillings  7d.  per  acre  =  3^^^ 
per  cent,  of  the  salable  value.  From  this  deduct  the  two  vingti^mes 
and  4  sous  per  livre  (taxes  paid  by  the  landlord)  and  other  expenses, 
and  the  net  revenue  remains  between  3  and  3^  per  cent.  The  prod- 
uct of  wheat  in  France  is,  however,  much  worse  than  in  England,  so 
that  the  proportion  obtained  by  the  landlord  is  greater  and  that  of 
the  tenant  less.  In  France  the  landlord  gets  one  half  of  the  crop  ; 
in  England,  one  fourth  to  one  sixth,  sometimes  only  one  tenth. 
A.  Young,  i.  353. 


THE   COUNTRY.  193 

but  no  longer  formidable.  Within,  the  great  hall  was 
stone-paved.  Its  walls  were  hung  with  dusky  portraits 
and  rusty  armor.  From  the  hall  would  open  a  spacious 
bedroom,  with  tapestried  walls  and  a  monumental  bed- 
stead. Curtains  and  coverlets  showed  the  delicate  em- 
broidery of  some  ancestress,  long  since  laid  to  rest  in  the 
family  chapel.  The  very  sheets  had  perhaps  been  woven 
by  her  shuttle.  This  bedroom,  according  to  old  custom, 
was  still  the  living-room  of  the  family.  Sometimes  the 
lord's  house  was  modern,  elegant,  and  symmetrical;  it 
was  flanked  with  pavilions  and  in  front  of  it  was  a  stone 
terrace,  with  a  balustrade,  on  which  stood  vases  for  grow- 
ing plants.  Inside  the  house  were  high-studded  rooms 
with  white  waUs  and  gilded  mouldings.  High  -  backed, 
crooked-legged  chairs,  in  the  style  of  the  last  reign,  were 
ranged  against  the  walls ;  and  near  the  middle  of  the  dark, 
slippery,  well- waxed  floor,  were  lighter  seats  and  stools. 
The  grandmother's  armchair  with  its  footstool  stood  at  the 
chimney  corner,  where  the  fire  was  religiously  lighted  on 
All  Saints  and  put  out  at  Easter,  regardless  of  weather. 
Through  the  tall  windows  that  opened  down  to  the  ground 
might  be  seen  the  long  straight  garden-walks,  none  too 
well  kept,  and  clipped  shrubs,  with  here  and  there  a  mar- 
ble nymph,  moss-grown  and  broken,  or  a  fountain  out  of 
repair.  The  family  did  not  spend  much  money  in  the 
place.  There  was  little  to  do  except  in  the  season  for 
shooting.  1 

In  order  that  this  last  occupation  may  be  left  to  the 
lord  and  his  friends,  game  is  strictly  preserved,  to  the 
great  detriment  of  the  crops.  Poachers  are  sharply  dealt 
with,  and  the  peasant  may  not  have  a  gun  to  protect  him 
from  wolves.  There  are  laws  enough  against  the  wrongs 
wrought  by  landlords  and  gamekeepers,  against  the  tram- 
pling down  of  young  wheat,  against  vexatious  complaints 
and  fines,  but  the  country  people  say  that  such  laws  are 
1  Taine,  Uancien  regime^  17.     Mmc.  de  Montagu,  59. 


194  THE   EVE   OF   THE   FRENCH   REVOLUTION. 

not  fairly  enforced.  Especially  is  the  case  hard  of  those 
who  live  near  the  capitaineries  or  royal  hunting-grounds. 
Here  rural  proprietors  may  not  raise  a  new  wall  without 
permission,  lest  the  hares  be  restrained  of  their  liberty  of 
eating  cabbages.  No  crops  can  be  cut  until  the  appointed 
day,  that  the  young  partridges  be  not  disturbed.  Deer 
and  rabbits  live  at  free  quarters  in  the  cultivated  fields. 
They  are  the  peasants'  personal  enemies,  and  among  the 
first  unlawful  acts  of  the  Revolution  will  be  their  whole- 
sale destruction.^ 

In  every  village  there  is  a  church,  sometimes  even  in 
small  places  a  beautiful  gothic  building,  oftener  modest 
in  size  and  of  plain  architecture.  Once  or  twice  in  a 
day's  ride  the  red  roofs  and  high  walls  of  a  convent  come 
in  sight,  not  very  different  in  appearance  from  a  group 
of  farm  buildings,  —  were  it  not  for  the  chapel  and  its 
belfry ;  —  for  here  in  France  the  farms  are  surrounded  by 
high  walls.  The  interminable  straight  roads,  fine  pieces 
of  engineering,  but  little  traveled,  stretch  out  between 
the  ploughed  fields,  with  rows  of  Lombardy  poplars  on 
either  hand,  that  tantalize  the  sun-baked  traveler  with  a 
suo^o^estion  of  shade. 

The  peasants  live  in  villages  oftener  than  in  detached 
farms,  and  the  village  itself  is  apt  to  have  a  rudely  for- 
tified appearance.  The  fields  that  stretch  about  it  belong 
to  the  peasants,  but  with  a  modified  ownership.  Over 
them  the  lords  exercise  their  feudal  rights.  There  is  the 
cens^  a  fixed  rent,  annual,  perpetual,  inseparably  attached 
to  the  soil.  It  is  paid  sometimes  in  money,  sometimes  in 
grain,  fruits,  or  chickens,  according  to  deed,  or  to  long 
established  custom.  There  is  the  champart^  a  rent  pro- 
portional to  the  crop,  also  payable  to  the  lord ;  and  there 

1  Olivier,  78,  mentions  the  laws  protecting  the  crops.  The  uni- 
versal complaint  of  the  cahiers  proves  the  grievance.  See  the  chapter 
on  the  cahiers.  The  capitainerie  of  Chantilly  was  said  to  be  over  100 
miles  in  circumference.    A.  Young,  i.  8  (May  25,  1787). 


THE    COUNTRY.  195 

is  the  tithe  which  must  be  given  to  the  clergy.  Should 
the  peasant  wish  to  sell  his  holding,  a  fine  called  lads  ct 
vetites,  amounting  in  some  cases  to  one  sixth  of  the  price, 
must  be  paid  to  the  lord  by  the  purchaser,  and  on  some 
estates  the  lord  has  also  the  right  to  refuse  to  accept 
the  new  tenant,  and  to  take  the  bargain  on  his  own  ac- 
count. ^ 

These  are  the  common  incidents  of  feudal  tenure. 
Eights  analogous  to  them  may  be  found  in  England  or  in 
Germany,  wherever  that  system  has  existed.  And  the 
vestijres  of  a  state  of  thino^s  far  older  than  feudalism  have 
not  entirely  disappeared.  The  commons  of  wood  and  of 
pasturage  yet  recall  the  time  when  agi'icultural  lands 
were  held  by  a  common  tenure.  Even  that  tenure  itself, 
with  its  annual  redistribution  of  the  fields,  may  be  found 
in  Lorraine. 2 

There  were,  moreover,  many  irksome  restrictions  on  the 
peasant.  In  the  lord's  mill  he  must  grind  his  corn;  in 
the  lord's  oven  he  must  bake  his  bread;  to  the  lord's 
bull  his  cow  must  be  taken.  Days  of  labor  on  the  lord's 
land  might  be  demanded  of  him.  Ridiculous  customs, 
offensive  to  his  dignity  or  his  vanity,  might  be  enforced. 
Newly  married  couples  were  in  some  parishes  made  to 
jump  over  the  churchyard  wall.  In  other  places,  on  cer- 
tain nights  in  the  year,  the  peasants  were  obliged  to  beat 
the  water  in  the  castle  ditch  to  keep  the  frogs  quiet. 
These  customs  have  been  considered  very  grievous  by 
democratic  writers,  nor  were  they  so  indifferent  to  the 
peasants  themselves  as  the  lovers  of  the  good  old  times 
would  have  us  believe.^  * 

It  was  not  always  the  lord  of  the  soil  who  enjoyed  and 

1  Prudhomme,  37,  137,  515. 

2  Mathieu,  322. 

*  See  the  rural  cahiers,  passim.  Mathieu  gives  the  text  of  a  cus- 
tomary right  of  hanalitt.  The  fee  of  the  four  banal  was  ^^  of  the 
bread  by  weight ;   the    moulin  banal,  -^  of  the  tiour  ;   the  pressoir 


196  THE   EVE   OF  THE   FRENCH   REVOLUTION. 

exercised  the  feudal  rights.  He  had  sometimes  sold  them 
to  strangers,  in  whose  hands  they  were  merely  revenue, 
and  who  demanded  them  harshly. 

The  origin  of  these  customs  lay  in  a  form  of  civilization 
that  had  long  passed  away.  To  understand  the  conditions 
on  which  the  French  peasants  held  their  lands  little  more 
than  a  hundred  years  ago,  we  must  glance  back  over  many 
centuries.  Feudalism  began  in  military  conquest.  When 
the  barbarians  overran  the  Koman  Empire,  the  victorious 
chiefs  divided  the  land  among  their  principal  followers ; 
and  the  titles  thus  conferred,  although  personal  at  first, 
soon  became  hereditary.  The  man  who  received  or  in- 
herited land  was  expected  to  appear  in  the  field  with  his 
followers  at  the  call  of  his  chief.  The  tenant,  in  his  turn, 
distributed  the  land  among  his  friends  on  conditions  sim- 
ilar to  those  on  which  he  had  himself  received  it ;  and  the 
process  might  be  indefinitely  repeated.  Thus  there  came 
to  be  a  hierarchy  in  the  state,  in  which  every  member  was 
responsible  to  his  immediate  superiors  and  obliged  within 
certain  limits  to  obey  the  man  next  above  him,  rather 
than  the  king  who  was  supposed  to  rule  them  all.  The 
obligations  were  various,  according  to  the  conditions  on 
which  the  lands  had  been  granted,  but  they  always  in- 
volved military  service  on  the  part  of  the  grantee,  and 
protection  on  the  part  of  the  grantor.  The  services 
being  mutual,  and  the  tenure  the  usual,  or  fashionable 
one,  most  persons  who  held  land  in  any  other  way  saw 
fit  to  conform  to  the  feudal  method;  and  absolute,  or 
allodial  owners,  where  the  tide  of  conquest  had  left  any, 
generally,  in  the  course  of  time,  surrendered  their  lands 
to  some  neighboring  lord,  and  received  them  back  again 
on  feudal  conditions. 

banal,  ^V  ^^  iV  ®^  ^^^  wine  ;  but  the  fees  varied  in  different  places 
even  in  one  province.  It  was  complained  that  presses  enough  for 
the  work  were  not  furnished,  and  that  grapes  spoiled  in  consequence. 
Mathieu,285. 


THE   COUNTRY.  197 

But  the  tenure  here  described  existed  only  among  the 
comparatively  rich  and  great.  When  the  last  feudal 
division  had  been  accomplished,  when  the  chief  had  made 
his  last  grant  to  his  captains  and  the  soil  was  divided 
among  them,  there  still  remained  by  far  the  larger  pai-t 
of  the  population  which  owed  no  feudal  duty  and  held 
no  feudal  estate.  The  common  soldiers  of  the  invading 
army,  the  native  people  of  the  conquered  country  and 
their  descendants,  inextricably  mixed  together,  remained 
upon  the  soil  and  cultivated  it  as  free  tenants,  or  as  serfs. 
They  paid  for  the  use  of  the  land  on  which  they  lived  in 
money  or  in  a  share  of  the  crops,  or  in  services.  They 
acknowledged  the  title  of  the  feudal  lords  over  them,  and 
while  struggling  to  make  good  bargains  with  their  masters, 
they  seldom  set  up  a  claim  to  equality,  or  to  indej^en- 
dence.  The  peasants  came  to  think  it  the  natural  and 
divinely  appointed  order  of  things  that  they  should  obey 
and  serve  their  lords,  with  a  partial  obedience  and  a  lim- 
ited service.  To  ask  why  they  were  content  so  to  serve, 
would  be  to  open  one  of  the  greatest  problems  of  history. 
Whatever  the  reason,  over  a  large  part  of  the  world,  and 
through  the  greater  part  of  historical  time,  men  have  con- 
sented to  obey  other  men  whom  they  have  not  selected, 
and  have  generally  preferred  the  hereditary  principle  to 
any  other  in  determining  to  whom  they  would  look  up  as 
their  rulers. 

So  the  French  peasants  and  their  lords  went  on  for  cen- 
turies, living  side  by  side,  rendering  each  other  mutual 
services,  sometimes  quarreling  and  sometimes  making 
bargains.  The  peasants  were  called  on  for  military 
service,  but  they  and  their  families  took  refuge  in  the 
lord's  castle  when  the  frequent  wars  swept  over  the  land. 
The  mill,  whose  rough  machinery  was  still  an  improve- 
ment on  the  rude  hand-mill,  or  on  the  yet  more  primitive 
mortar  and  pestle ;  the  oven  where  the  peasant  could  bake 
his  bread  without  lighting  a  fire  on  his  own  hearth,  after 


198     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

the  toil  of  the  long  summer's  day;  the  bull  of  famous 
breed  in  all  the  country-side,  were  the  lord's,  and  all  his 
tenants  must  use  them  and  pay  for  them,  at  rates  fixed 
by  immemorial  custom,  or  perhaps  by  some  long  forgotten 
bargain,  made  when  these  conveniences  were  first  fur- 
nished to  the  dwellers  in  the  land.  The  lord  led  his 
peasants  to  battle,  he  protected  them  from  the  inhabi- 
tants of  the  next  valley,  he  decided  their  differences  in 
his  court,  where  the  more  considerable  of  his  tenants  sat 
beside  him ;  he  governed  his  people,  well  or  ill,  according 
to  his  character,  but  on  the  whole  to  their  reasonable 
satisfaction.  His  government,  such  as  it  might  be,  was 
their  only  refuge  from  anarchy.  The  lord  was  governed, 
not  very  strictly,  by  a  greater  lord,  who  in  his  turn  owed 
duty  to  a  greater  than  he ;  until,  after  one  or  more  steps, 
came  the  king,  or  overlord  of  the  land. 

The  long  struggle  by  which  the  kings  of  France  had 
transformed  this  loose  chain  of  allegiance  into  the  tight- 
ened band  of  almost  absolute  monarchy,  is  not  to  be  told 
here.  From  the  tenth  century  to  the  seventeenth  the 
combat  was  waged  with  varied  success.  The  feudal  lords 
lost  much  of  their  power,  but  kept  much  of  their  wealth 
and  many  of  their  privileges.  The  dukes  and  counts, 
whose  fathers,  in  their  own  domains,  had  been  as  power- 
ful as  the  king  himself,  retained  their  titles,  and  drew 
their  incomes,  but  they  spent  their  time  in  attendance 
on  their  sovereign.  The  petty  lord  still  held  his  court 
of  justice,  over  which  his  bailiff  usually  presided,  but 
its  functions  had  been  gradually  usurped  by  the  royal 
judges.  The  castle,  no  longer  needed  for  protection,  was 
transformed  into  a  country  house.  But  many  old  customs 
and  old  rights  were  maintained,  although  their  origin  was 
forgotten.  The  peasants  still  worked  for  several  days  in 
the  year  on  the  lands  of  their  lord,  or  paid  a  part  of  their 
crops  in  rent  for  their  farms,  although  these  had  been  in 
the  possession  of  their  forefathers  for  a  thousand  years. 


THE   COUNTRY.  199 

This  rent,  or  some  rent,  the  peasants  under  Louis  XVI. 
believed  to  be  just,  for  they  did  not  claim  absolute  owner- 
ship, but  they  considered'  the  services  onerous  and  degrad  - 
ing.  Their  ideas  on  these  subjects  were  not  very  definite; 
but  of  late  years  a  general  sense  of  wrong  had  been 
growing  in  their  minds.  The  long-lived  quarrels  which 
ever  exist  in  the  country-side  were  envenomed  by  stronger 
suspicions  of  injustice.  It  was  a  common  complaint  that 
the  last  survey  and  apportionment  of  rent  had  been 
unfair.  The  lords  were  no  longer  so  far  removed  from 
their  poorer  neighbors  as  to  be  above  envy.  They  were 
no  longer  so  useful  as  to  be  considered  necessary  evils,  as 
a  large  part  of  the  community  everywhere  is  prone  to 
think  of  its  governors. 

Let  us  look  at  the  life  of  the  peasant.  His  cottage  is 
not  attractive ;  a  low  thatched  building,  perhaps  without 
a  floor.  The  barn  is  close  against  it,  and  the  family  is 
not  averse  to  seeking  the  warmth  of  the  cattle  and  of  the 
dunghiU.  The  windows  are  without  glass,  and  pigs  and 
chickens  wander  in  and  out  at  the  open  door.  But  the 
house  belongs  to  the  peasant,  and  is  his  home.  He  dares 
not  improve  it  for  fear  of  increased  taxes.  He  cares  not 
much  to  do  so.  It  keeps  him  warm  at  night  and  dry  when 
it  rains ;  daylight  and  fine  weather  will  find  him  out  of 
doors.  If  he  can  hide  away  a  few  pieces  of  silver  in  an 
old  stocking,  he  will  more  readily  bring  them  out  to  buy 
another  bit  of  ground,  than  waste  them  in  useless  comforts 
and  luxuries  of  building. 

The  furniture  was  generally  better  than  the  house.  A 
great  bedstead,  with  curtains  of  green  serge,  was  the  prin- 
cipal piece,  the  centre  of  family  life,  the  birthplace  of  the 
children,  the  death  -  bed  of  the  parents.  It  was  made 
as  high  as  possible,  to  lift  the  sleepers  above  the  damp 
ground.  A  feather-bed  helped  to  keep  them  warm.  A 
few  cupboards  and  chests  stood  about  the  walls  of  the 
room,  dark  with  age  and  grime.     They  were  made  of  oak, 


200  THE   EVE   OF  THE   FRENCH   REVOLUTION. 

or  pear  wood,  and  sometimes  rudely  carved.  In  tlie 
eighteentli  century  comfort  had  much  increased  in  the 
towns,  but  the  country  had  seen  little  change. 

The  dress,  again,  was  generally  better  than  the  furni- 
ture. The  costumes  of  the  provinces  are  often  the  copy 
of  some  long-forgotten  fashion  of  the  court,  simplified  or 
changed  to  adapt  it  to  rural  skill  and  country  needs.  To 
be  well  dressed  is  a  sign  of  respectability ;  to  be  modestly 
housed  may  pass  for  a  sign  of  thrift.  On  Sundays, 
bright  coats,  blue,  gray,  or  olive,  made  their  appearance. 
The  women  came  out  in  good  gowns  and  clean  caps. 
There  were  flowered  damask  waists,  sleeves  of  white  serge, 
wine-colored  petticoats.  A  gold  cross  was  a  sign  of  com- 
parative wealth,  but  silver  jewelry  was  common.  Leather 
shoes  were  worn  by  both  sexes.  On  week  days  there 
were  wooden  shoes,  or  bare  feet  in  the  southern  provinces, 
and  overalls  of  gray  linen.  Under  Louis  XVI.,  cotton 
bee:an  to  drive  out  the  linen  and  woolen  cloths  of  former 
years.  Being  cheaper  and  less  strong,  clothes  were  oftener 
renewed.  The  change  was  contrary  to  beauty,  but  favor- 
able to  cleanliness. 

The  food  of  the  peasant  depended  much  on  his  harvest. 
In  good  years  and  on  good  soils  he  was  well  fed ;  in  bad 
years  and  in  poor  districts,  ill.  Bread,  the  chief  article 
of  his  diet,  was  cheaper  and  less  good  than  in  England, 
the  wheat  flour  being  mixed  with  rye,  barley,  oats,  chest- 
nuts or  pease.  The  women  made  a  soup,  or  porridge,  by 
boiling  this  bread  in  water,  adding  milk  perhaps,  or  a 
little  bit  of  pork  for  a  relish.  Cheese  and  butter  were 
fairly  plenty,  for  common  lands  were  extensive.  Beef 
and  mutton  would  be  eaten  at  Easter-tide  or  at  the  festi- 
val of  the  patron  saint,  and  most  at  wedding-feasts.  Wine 
appears  to  have  been  considered  a  luxury,  but  a  common 
one.  It  would  seem  that  a  peasant  who  did  not  taste  it 
several  times  a  week  was  accounted  poor ;  one  who  drank 
it  freely  but  temperately  twice  a  day  would  have  been 


THE   COUNTRY.  201 

called  rich.  Tobacco,  the  comforter  of  the  poor,  was  in 
common  use.  This  description  of  the  food  of  the  country 
people  applies  rather  to  the  poorer  peasants,  or  to  those 
whose  condition  was  not  above  the  average,  than  to  those 
who  were  best  off.  In  Normandy,  good  bread,  meat, 
eggs,  vegetables,  and  fruit,  with  plenty  of  cider,  formed 
the  daily  fare  in  prosperous  farm-houses.^ 

The  peasants  were  not  cut  off  from  all  social  and  polit- 
ical activity.     Every  rural  parish  formed  a  separate  little 
community,  very  restricted  in  its  rights  and  functions, 
yet  not  without  valuable    corporate    powers. ^     It  could 
hold  property,  both  real  and  personal ;  it  could   sue  and 
be  sued ;  it  could  elect  its  own  officers  and  manage  its 
own  affairs.     In  the  eighteenth    century  it  became  the 
fashion  in  France,  as  in  many  other  countries,  to  divide 
the   common  lands,   but  many  parishes  stiU    held  large 
tracts  in  the  reign  of  Louis  XVI.     The  sale   of  their 
woods,  the  letting  of  their  pastures,  of  fishing  rights,  or 
of  the  office  of  wine-taster  in  grape-growing  districts, 
formed  the  revenues  of  the  rural  community.    Its  expenses 
were  many  and  various.     It  repaired  the  nave  of  the 
church,  the  choir  being  kept  in  order  at  the  cost  of  the 
priest.     The  parsonage  and  the  wall  round  the  church- 
yard were  maintained  by  the  parish.      The  drawing  for 
the  militia  was  at  the  expense  of  the  community.     So 
were  some  of  the  roads.     It  paid  the  schoolmaster  and 
the  syndic.    Then  there  were  incidental  expenses,  such  as 
the  annual  mass,  the  carriage  of  letters,  the  keej^ing  in 
order  of  the  church  clock.     Sometimes  the  accounts  of  a 
community  show  a  charge  for  a  present  to  some  influential 
person,  capable  of  helping  in  a  lawsuit,  or  of  effecting  a 
reduction  of  the  taxes  assessed  on  the  parish.     It  was  a 

^  This  description  of  the  condition  of  the  peasants  is  taken  chiefly 
from  Babeau,  La  vie  rurale. 

2  The  parish  and  the  community  were  generally  coterminous,  but 
were  not  always  so.     Ibid.,  Le  Village,  97. 


202     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

notable  feature  of  the  communal  expenses,  tliat  the  lord 
of  the  village  shared  them  with  his  poorer  neighbors. 
Into  these  rural  matters  privilege  did  not  extend. ^ 

The  public  meetings  of  these  little  communities  were 
held  on  certain  Sundays  of  the  year  after  mass,  or  after 
vespers.  Sometimes  the  meeting  took  place  in  the  church 
itself,  oftener  in  front  of  it,  on  the  green.  There  the 
men  of  the  village,  streaming  from  the  porch,  stood  or 
sat  in  groups  on  the  grass,  under  the  trees.  Their  own 
elected  syndic  presided.  Ten  was  a  quorum  for  ordinary 
business,  but  two  thirds  of  the  whole  number  was  neces- 
sary to  confirm  a  loan.  A  fine  could  be  imposed  for  ab- 
sence, or  for  leaving  the  assembly  before  adjournment. 

In  these  town  meetings  the  aifairs  of  the  community 
were  discussed  and  decided.  Sales  were  made,  land  was 
let,  repairs  of  public  buildings  or  of  roads  were  voted. 
The  syndic  was  elected.  A  record  of  the  proceedings  was 
kept,  and  was  afterwards  submitted  to  the  royal  intendant 
for  his  approval,  without  which  no  action  was  valid. 
This  system  lasted  to  the  eve  of  the  Eevolution,  but  was 
at  that  time  giving  way  to  another.  Under  pretense  that 
the  public  meetings  were  disorderly,  they  were  gradually 
obliged  to  surrender  their  functions  to  boards  partly  or 
wholly  elected.  But  certain  important  matters,  such  as 
the  election  of  a  schoolmaster,  were  still  left  to  the  general 
assembly.  At  the  same  time  the  right  of  suffrage  was 
somewhat  curtailed.  Voters  were  required  to  be  twenty- 
five  years  old  and  to  pay  certain  taxes. 

The  village  had  Its  elected  head,  the  syndic, ^  whose 
functions  were  not  unlike  those  of  an  American  selectman. 

1  But  this  was  not  always  the  case.  See  the  caUer  of  the  Artig- 
nosc  in  Provence,  Archives  parlementaires,  vi.  249.  "  Clochers  et  autres 
batiments  g^n^raux.  (Les  seigneurs  n'en  payent  rien,  meme  pour 
leurs  biens  roturiers,  pour  les  differentes  charges  cles  communantds)." 

2  So  called  in  the  north  of  France.  In  the  south,  consul.  Babeau, 
M  Village,  45. 


THE   COUNTRY.  203 

He  was  the  executive  officer  of  the  community,  who  con- 
ducted its  business  and  had  charge  of  its  papers.  The 
central  government  of  the  country  also  laid  tasks  upon 
him.  He  had  to  attend  to  the  drawing  of  the  militia,  to 
report  epidemics  among  the  cattle,  to  enforce  the  laws  for 
the  destruction  of  caterpillars.  Beside  him  were  other 
officers,  also  elected  by  the  inhabitants,  but  more  directly 
the  servants  of  the  central  power  than  he.  These  were 
the  collectors  of  taxes.  The  syndics  and  collectors  had 
much  work  and  responsibility,  with  little  pay  and  no 
chance  of  promotion.  Honest  and  capable  men  were 
much  averse  to  taking  such  places  and  often  tried  to  es- 
cape it.  The  dishonest  acquired  illicit  gain  in  them,  at 
the  expense  of  their  fellow-subjects.  Serving  the  com- 
munity was  considered  less  an  honor  than  a  duty,  and 
service  could  be  forced  on  the  unwilling  citizen ;  but  the 
inhabitants  in  easy  circumstances  often  found  means  to 
avoid  the  task,  and  the  syndics  and  collectors  were  then 
chosen  from  among  the  poorer  and  less  educated  peasants. 
Some  of  them  could  neither  read  nor  write. ^  A  public 
body  that  wishes  to  be  well-served  must  not  make  public 
service  too  disagreeable.  France  suffered  at  once  from 
overpaid  courtiers,  and  from  ill-treated  syndics  and  col- 
lectors. 

The  chief  layman  of  the  village  was  the  lord's  steward 
(bailU\  who  exercised  the  judicial  functions  of  his  master. 
He  held,  himself  above  the  common  peasants  and  his  wife 
was  called  "Madame."  Her  kitchen  showed  a  greater 
array  of  pots  and  pans  than  that  of  her  neighbors ;  her 
linen  and  her  jewelry  were  more  abundant  than  theirs. 
The  steward  and  the  parish  priest  were  the  most  impor- 
tant persons  in  the  hamlet.^ 

^  The  above  description  of  the  political  life  of  the  village  is  taken 
chiefly  from  Babeaii,  Le  Village.  See  also  tlie  cahier  of  the  village 
of  Pin  (Paris  extra  nmrosy  Archives parlementaireSj  v.  22,  §  1). 

2  Babeau,  La  vie  rurale,  15G. 


204     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

The  schoolmaster  came  far  below  the  priest,  who  had 
over  him  a  right  of  supervision.  The  main  control  of 
the  schools,  however,  was  in  the  hands  of  the  communi- 
ties, which  elected  the  masters  from  candidates  approved 
by  the  clergy.  The  latter  insisted  more  strongly  on 
orthodoxy  than  on  competence.  The  position  of  the  vil- 
lage schoolmaster  was  not  brilliant.  His  house  usually 
consisted  of  two  rooms,  one  for  the  school  and  one  for 
the  family;  his  books  were  few,  his  clothes  shabby. 
He  was  paid  in  part  by  the  scholars,  at  the  rate  of  three 
or  five  sous  a  month  for  reading,  higher  for  writing  and 
arithmetic.  In  some  cases  a  tax  of  a  hundred  and  fifty 
livres  was  laid  on  the  parish  for  his  benefit.  But  school 
was  not  held  during  the  whole  year;  the  scholars  would 
desert  in  a  body  early  in  Lent,  and  be  kept  busy  in  the 
fields  until  November.  The  master  might  act  as  surgeon, 
or  attorney,  or  surveyor;  he  might  cultivate  a  plot  of 
ground.  He  was  expected  to  assist  the  priest  at  divine 
service,  to  lead  the  choir,  or  even  to  ring  the  bells. 
Simple  primary  schools  were  abundant  in  the  country, 
especially  in  some  of  the  northern  provinces.  In  some 
villages  the  boys  and  girls  went  together,  but  the  higher 
civil  and  ecclesiastical  authorities,  the  king  and  the 
bishops,  more  familiar  with  the  manners  of  the  court  than 
with  those  of  the  village,  looked  on  these  mixed  schools 
with  disfavor.  In  general  it  was  harder  for  girls  to  get 
an  education  than  for  boys.^ 

The  ambitious  lad  found  means  by  which  to  rise.     In 

1  Babeau,  La  vie  rurale,  143.  Ibid.,  Le  Village,  277.  Ibid.,  L'Ecole 
de  village,  17,  18.  Matliieu,  262.  Cahier  of  the  "  Instituteurs  des petites 
villes,  hourgs,  et  villages  de  Bourgogne,^'  Rev.  des  deux  Mondes,  April  15, 
1881,  874.  Statistics  are  imperfect,  but  from  an  examination  of  mar- 
riage registers,  Babeau  gathers  that  the  proportion  of  persons  married 
who  could  sign  their  names  varied  from  nearly  89  per  cent,  of  the 
men  and  nearly  65  per  cent,  of  the  women  in  Lorraine,  to  13  per  cent, 
of  the  men  and  nearly  6  per  cent,  of  the  women  in  the  Nivernois. 
The  central  provinces  and  Brittany  were  the  most  illiterate  parts  of 
the  country.    L'Ecole,  3  n.  187.    Le  Village,  282  n.  3. 


THE   COUNTRY.  205 

spite  of  the  heavy  and  badly  levied  taxes,  he  might  grow 
rich,  add  new  fields  to  his  father's  farm,  attain  in  some 
degree  to  comfort  and  to  that  consideration  in  his  neigh- 
borhood which  is  perhaps  the  most  legitimately  dear  to 
the  heart  of  all  the  worldly  consequences  of  success.  Nor 
was  it  necessary  to  confine  himself  entirely  to  agriculture. 
The  lower  walks  of  the  law  and  of  medicine  might  be 
attained  by  the  son  of  a  peasant,  and  if  one  generation  of 
labor  were  hardly  long  enough  to  reach  the  higher,  no 
career,  except  the  few  reserved  for  the  upper  nobility, 
was  beyond  the  aspiration  of  the  rising  man  for  his  chil- 
dren or  his  children's  children.  There  was  more  modest 
promotion  nearer  at  hand.  The  blacksmith  and  the  inn- 
keeper stood  in  the  eyes  of  their  poorer  neighbors  as  in- 
stances of  prosperity.  The  studious  boy,  with  good  luck, 
might  become  a  schoohnaster,  even  a  parish  priest.  The 
active  and  pushing  might,  with  favor,  aspire  to  some  petty 
place  under  the  central  government;  or  to  stewardship 
for  the  lord.  To  what  eminence  of  fortune  might  not 
these  prove  the  paths. ^ 

Meanwhile  for  the  unambitious,  for  the  mass  of  rural 
mankind,  there  were  simpler  pleasures,  the  dance  on  the 
green  of  a  Sunday  afternoon,  the  weddings  with  their 
feasts  and  merry-makings,  the  fairs  and  the  festival  of 
the  patron  saint  of  the  village.  There  were  games, 
ploughing  matches,  grinning  matches.  Holidays  were 
frequent,  —  too  frequent,  said  the  learned ;  but  probably 
they  did  not  often  come  amiss  to  the  peasants.  On  those 
days  they  could  throw  off  their  cares  and  play  as  heartily 
as  they  had  worked.  It  is  generally  believed  that  the 
Frenchman,  and  especially  the  French  peasant,  was 
livelier  before  the  Revolution  than  he  has  ever  been  since.'* 

^  Babeau,  La  vie  rurale,  128,  etc. 

2  Ibid.j  187.     See  Goldsmith's  Traveller,  the  lines  beginning:  — 

•'  To  kinder  Bkies.  where  pentler  manners  reijjn, 
I  turn  ;  aud  France  displays  her  bright  domain." 


206     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

There  was  much  that  was  hard  in  the  condition  of  the 
rural  classes,  but  it  was  better  than  that  of  the  greater 
part  of  mankind.  On  the  continent  of  Europe  only 
the  inhabitants  of  some  small  states  equaled  in  prosperity 
those  of  the  more  fortunate  of  the  French  provinces. ^ 
And  in  France  prosperity  was  growing.  The  peasant's 
taxes  were  constantly  getting  heavier,  but  his  means  of 
bearing  them  increased  faster  yet.  The  rising  tide  of 
material  prosperity,  the  great  change  of  modern  times, 
could  be  felt,  though  feebly  as  yet,  in  the  provinces  of 
France. 

1  Holland  and  Lombardy  were  the  richest  countries  in  Europe. 
Tuscany  was  especially  well  governed  just  then.  A.  Young,  i.  480. 
Serfdom  still  existed  in  some  remote  French  provinces,  especially  in 
the  Jura  mountains.  Its  principal  characteristic  was  the  escheating 
to  the  lord  of  the  property  of  all  serfs  dying  childless. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

TAXATION.  1 

The  gross  amount  paid  in  taxes  by  the  French  nation 
before  the  Revolution  will  never  be  accurately  known ;  the 
subject  is  too  vast  and  complicated,  and  the  accounts  were 
too  loosely  kept.  Necker  in  his  work  on  the  "Administra- 
tion of  the  Finances  "  reckons  the  sum  annually  paid  by 
the  people  at  five  hundred  and  eighty -five  million  livres. 
Bailly  (whose  book  appeared  in  1830  and  has  not  been 
superseded)  makes  the  gross  amount  eight  hundred  and 
eighty  millions.  But  from  this  should  be  deducted  feudal 
dues  and  fees  for  membership  of  trade  guilds,  which  Bailly 
includes  in  his  estimate,  and  which  were  certainly  private 
property,  however  objectionable  in  their  character. 
There  will  remain  less  than  eight  hundred  and  thirty- 
seven  million  livres  as  the  amount  paid  by  about  twenty- 
six  million  Frenchmen,  in  general  and  local  taxation,  in- 
cluding tithes;  an  average  of  about  thirty -two  livres  a 
head.  Was  this  amount  excessive  ?  Probably  not,  if  the 
load  had  been  rightly  distributed.  If  we  allow  the  franc 
of  to-day  one  haK  of  the  purchasing  power  of  the  livre  of 
1789,  the  modern  Frenchman  yet  pays  more  than  his 
great-grandfather  did.  But  there  can  be  little  doubt 
that  he  pays  it  more  easily  to  himself.  In  the  eigh- 
teenth century  the  Englishman  was  probably  better  off 
than  his  French  neighbor,  but   his    advantage  was  not 

1  "  I  must  again  remark  that  clear  accounts  are  not  to  be  looked 
for  in  the  complex  mountain  of  Frencli  finances."  A.  Youngf,  i.  578. 
Young  reckons  the  revenue  at  the  entire  command  of  Louis  XVI. 
at  680,664,943  livres,  i.  575.     See  also  Stourm,  ii.  182. 


208     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

undoubted.  Grenville,  in  1769,  speaks  of  the  compar- 
ative lightness  of  taxes  and  cheapness  of  living  which, 
he  says,  must  make  France  an  asylum  for  British  man- 
ufacturers and  artificers.  Young,  twenty  years  later, 
asserts  that  the  taxes  in  England  are  much  more  than 
double  those  in  France,  but  more  easily  borne.  Necker 
says  that  England  bears  as  large  a  burden  of  taxation  as 
France,  in  spite  of  a  smaller  number  of  inhabitants  and 
a  less  amount  of  money  in  circulation ;  but  bears  it  more 
readily  because  it  is  better  distributed.  And  Chastellux, 
while  arriving  at  a  similar  conclusion,  remarks  that  after 
all  the  French  is,  of  all  nations,  the  one  that  suffers  most 
from  taxation.^ 

Under  the  old  monarchy  the  taxes  were  unequally  as- 
sessed in  two  ways.  There  were  differences  of  places 
and  differences  of  persons.  This  is  pretty  sure  to  be  true 
of  all  countries,  but  in  France  the  differences  were  very 
large  and  were  not  sanctioned  by  the  popular  conscience. 
In  a  country  which  had  become  strongly  conscious  of  its 
unity,  and  which  was  full  of  national  feeling,  some  prov- 
inces were  taxed  much  more  heavily  than  others,  not  for 
their  own  local  purposes,  but  for  the  support  of  the  cen- 
tral government.  In  the  first  place  came  those  provinces 
which  were  included  in  the  general  assessment  of  taxes. 
These  were  divided  into  twenty-four  districts  {genera- 
lites\  over  each  of  which  was  an  intendant.  Twenty  of 
these  districts  formed  the  heart  of  old  France,  extending 
irregularly  from  Amiens  on  the  north  to  Bordeaux  on  the 
south,  and  from  Grenoble  on  the  east  to  the  sea.     To 

1  Necker,  DeZMc?mm^s^m«^■on,  i.  35,51.  Bailly,  ii.  275.  Grenville, 
The  Present  State  of  the  Nation,  35  ;  but  this  statement  is  made  in 
a  political  pamphlet,  answered  and  apparently  refuted  by  Burke, 
Observations  on  a  Late  State  of  the  Nation.  A.  Young,  i.  596.  Chas- 
tellux, ii.  169.  For  1891  the  average  taxation  per  head  amounts  to 
86  francs,  for  1789  to  34  livres,  Statesman's  Year  Book,  1891,  p.  472, 
and  Bailly. 


TAXATION. 


20d 


these   were   added    the  conquered  or    ceded  provinces: 
Alsace,   Lorraine,   Bar,   the   Three  Bishoprics,   Franche 
Comte,    Flanders,   and    Hainault,    forming  among  them 
four  districts  and  enjoying  privileges   superior  to  those 
of  old  France.     All  these  formed  the  Lands   of   Elec- 
tion {pays  d' Electioii).      On  the   other   hand  were  the 
Lands  of   Estates  {j)ays  cV  Etats)^  provinces  which  had 
retained  their  assemblies,  and  with  them  some  of  their 
ancient  rights  of  taxing  themselves,  or  at  least  of  levy- 
ing in  their  own  way  those  taxes  which  the  central  gov- 
ernment imposed.      This  was  a  privilege  highly  prized 
by  the  provinces  which  possessed   it.     These  provinces 
formed  a  fringe  round  France,  and  included  Languedoc, 
Provence,  the  duchy  of  Burgundy,  Artois,  Brittany,  and 
some  others.     The  central  administration  was  so  oppres- 
sive, at  the  same  time  that  it  was  clumsy  and  inefficient, 
that  every  province  and  city  was  anxious  to  compound  for 
its  taxes,  and  to  settle  them  at  a  fixed  rate,  though  a  high 
one.     This  was  accomplished  on  the  largest  scale  by  the 
Lands  of  Estates,  but  similar  privileges,  to  a  greater  or 
less  extent,  were  maintained  by  most  of  the  cities.     We 
must  remember,  here  as  elsewhere,  that  France  had  not 
sprung  into  \Q\ng  as   a   homogeneous    nation    with  her 
modern  boundaries.     From  the  accession  of  the  House 
of  Capet  in  the  tenth  century,  province  after  province 
had  been  added  to  the  dominions  of  the  crown.     Many 
of  them   had   preserved   ancient   rights.      Customs   and 
tolls  differed  among  them,  duties  were  exacted  in  pass- 
ing from  one  to  the  other.     Privileges,  the  prizes  of  old 
wars,  rights  assured  in  some  cases  by  solemn  treaties, 
had  to  be  regarded.     The  wars  of  the  Middle  Ages  were 
waged  chiefly  concerning  legal  claims.     The  end  of  the 
period  found   all  Europe  full   of  privileged  territories, 
persons,  or  corporations.     Privileges  and  rights  were  re- 
garded as  property.     Modern    struggles   have   been  for 
ideas,  and  among  the  most  cherished  of  these  have  been 


'210     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

equality  and  uniformity.  The  sacredness  of  property  and 
of  contract  have  in  a  measure  gone  down  before  them.^ 

Although  the  Provincial  Estates  differed  in  the  various 
provinces  which  possessed  them,  they  included  in  almost 
every  case  members  of  the  three  orders.  The  Clergy  were 
usually  represented  by  bishops,  abbots,  and  persons  de- 
puted by  chapters ;  the  Nobility  either  by  all  nobles  whose 
title  was  not  less  than  a  hundred  years  old,  or  by  the  pos- 
sessors of  certain  fiefs ;  the  third  estate,  or  Commons,  by 
the  mayors  and  deputies  of  the  towns.  The  three  Orders 
sometimes  sat  apart,  sometimes  together.  In  the  intervals 
between  their  sessions  their  powers  were  delegated  to  in- 
termediate commissions,  small  boards  for  the  regulation 
of  current  affairs.  There  was  nothing  democratic  in  such 
a  constitution.  Even  the  representatives  of  the  common- 
alty were  taken  from  among  the  most  privileged  members 
of  their  order.  Nor  were  the  powers  of  the  Estates  exten- 
sive. They  bargained  with  the  royal  intendants  for  the 
gross  amount  of  the  taxes  to  be  assessed  on  their  provinces. 
They  divided  this  sum  and  charged  it  to  the  various  sub- 
divisions of  their  territory.  They  levied  it  by  taxes  simi- 
lar to  those  of  the  general  government.^ 

But  in  spite  of  all  drawbacks  the  Provincial  Estates 
were  much  valued  by  the  provinces  which  possessed  them. 
They  were  at  least  a  guarantee  that  some  local  knowledge 
and  local  patriotism  would  be  applied  to  local  affairs. 
Moreover,  they  had  the  right  of  petition,  a  right  essential 
to  good  government,  both  for  the  information  of  rulers 
and  for  giving  vent  to  the  feelings  of  subjects.  This  right 
is,  and  has  long  been,  so  nearly  free  in  English-speaking 

1  Necker,  De  V Administration,  i.  ix.  Bailly,  ii.  276.  Horn,  258, 
Bois-Guillebert,  207.  {La  detail  de  la  France  Partie,  ii.  c.  vii.)  ; 
Stubbs  Lectures,  217.  Walloon  Flanders  was  in  the  anomalous  posi- 
tion of  forming  part  of  a  generalite,  but  possessing  Estates.  Bailly, 
ii.  327. 

2  Luq-ay,  Les  assemhlees  provinciales,  111.  Necker,  Memoire  au  roi 
sur  Vctablissement  des  adminisirations  provinciates,  passim. 


TAXATION.  211 

countries,  that  it  is  hard  to  realize  that  there  are  civilized 
lands  where  men  may  not  quietly  and  respectfully  express 
their  wishes.  Yet  in  old  France,  as  in  a  large  part  of 
Continental  Europe  to-day,  the  citizen  who  publicly  gave 
an  opinion  on  public  matters,  or  who  pointed  out  a  well- 
known  public  grievance,  was  considered  a  disturber  of  the 
peace.  Under  such  circumstances,  a  body  of  men  who 
were  allowed  to  discuss  and  recommend  might  render  a 
great  service  to  their  country  by  simply  using  that  freedom. 
The  complaints  of  the  Estates  of  each  province  were  trans- 
mitted to  the  king  in  council,  by  a  document  known  as  a 
cahier,  and  the  wishes  thus  expressed  often  formed  a  basis 
of  legislation,  or  of  administrative  orders. 

Among  the  spasmodic  efforts  at  reform  made  under 
Louis  XVI.  were  two  attempts  to  extend  the  system  of 
local  self-government.  The  first  was  made  by  Necker  in 
1778  and  1779.  Provincial  assemblies  were  established 
in  those  years  by  way  of  experiment  in  two  provinces. 
Berry  and  Haute  Guyenne.  These  assemblies  were  com- 
posed of  forty-eight  and  fifty-two  members  respectively, 
one  half  being  taken  from  among  the  clergy  and  nobility, 
one  haK  from  the  Third  Estate  of  the  towns  and  the  coun- 
try. A  third  of  the  members  of  the  Assembly  of  Berry 
were  appointed  by  the  king,  and  these  elected  their  fel- 
low-members, care  being  taken  to  preserve  the  equality  of 
classes.  One  third  of  the  members  were  to  be  renewed 
by  the  assembly  itself  once  in  three  years.  The  body 
was,  therefore,  in  no  way  dependent  on  popular  election. 
The  assembly  met  and  voted  as  one  chamber.  Its  func- 
tions were  almost  purely  administrative,  the  assessment  of 
taxes,  the  care  of  roads  and  the  management  of  charitable 
institutions.  All  this  was  done  under  close  supervision 
of  the  intendant  and,  through  him,  of  the  minister.  The 
assembly  sat  only  once  in  two  years,  for  a  time  not  exceed- 
ing one  month,  but  an  intermediate  commission  carried  on 
its  work  between  its  sessions.     The  general  plan  of  the 


212  THE   EVE   OF   THE   FRENCH   REVOLUTION. 

Assembly  of  Haute  Guyenne  was  similar  to  that  of  the 
Assembly  of  Berry. 

Eight  years  passed  between  the  establishment  of  these 
experimental  assemblies  and  the  convocation  of  the  first 
Assembly  of  Notables   at  Versailles,  —  eight   important 
years  in  French  history.     Necker  was  driven  from  power, 
but  the  two  new  bodies  survived  the  reactionary  policy  of 
his  successors,  and  did  some  good  service.     The  fallen 
minister  kept  his  popularity  and  his  influence  with  the 
public  at  large.     His  great  book  on  the  "Administra- 
tion of  the  Finances  "  was  in  all  hands,  eighty  thousand 
copies  having  been  rapidly  sold.     In  it  he  expounds  his 
favorite   scheme   of  Provincial   Assemblies,  and  praises 
the  working  of  the  two  that  have  been  established.     He 
points  out  that  they  are  not  representative  bodies,  empow- 
ered to  make  bargains  with  the  king  and  to  impede  the 
government,  but  administrative  boards,  entrusted  by  the 
sovereign  with  the  duty  of  watching  over  the  interests  of 
the  people  of  their  districts.     The  Assembly  of  Notables 
of  1787  and  the  minister  Brienne  adopted  Necker's  views, 
but  not  completely.     They  established  provincial  assem- 
blies throughout  France  on  a  plan  of  their  own.     One 
half  of  the  members  of  these  new  bodies  were  to  be  chosen 
in   the  first  place  by  the  king;  the  second  haK  being 
elected  by  the  first.     But  at  the  end  of  three  years  one 
quarter  part  of  the  assembly  was  to  retire,  and  its  place 
was  to  be  filled  by  a  true  election.     This,  however,  was 
not  to  be  direct,  but  in  three  stages.     A  parochial  board 
was  to  be  created  in  every  village,  composed  of  the  lord 
and  the  priest  ex  officio,  and  of  several  elected  members. 
These  parochial  boards  were  to  elect  the  district  boards, 
(assemhlees  d' election)  smd.  the  latter  were  to  elect  the  new 
members   of   the   Provincial  Assembly.     The  march  of 
events  after  1787  prevented  these  elections  from  taking 
place.     But  the  nominated  assemblies  met  twice,  once  for 
organization  and  once  for  business.     They  came  too  late 


TAXATION.  213 

to  prevent  a  catastrophe,  but  lasted  long  enough  to  give 
well-founded  hopes  of  usefulness.  The  great  National 
Assembly  of  1789  and  its  successors  might  have  had  a 
far  less  stormy  history,  had  all  France  been  accustomed, 
though  only  for  one  generation,  to  political  bodies  re- 
strained by  law.^ 

Within  a  given  province  or  district,  there  was  no  pro- 
portional equality  among  persons  in  the  matter  of  taxa- 
tion. It  was  sometimes  said  that  the  noble  paid  with  his 
blood,  the  villein  with  his  money.  But  the  order  of  the 
Nobility  had  come  to  include  many  persons  who  never 
thought  of  shedding  their  blood  for  their  country;  to 
include,  in  fact,  the  rich  and  prosperous  generally.  These 
were  not  (as  they  are  sometimes  represented  to  have  been), 
quite  free  from  taxation.  Something  like  one  haK  of  the 
taxes  were  indirect,  and  might  be  supposed  to  be  paid  by 
all  classes  in  proportion  to  their  consumption.  Yet  even 
for  the  indirect  taxes,  privileged  persons  managed  to  find 
ways  partially  to  escape.  Some  of  the  direct  taxes  were 
deducted  from  salaries,  or  imposed  on  incomes,  but  it  was 
said  that  the  rich  and  powerful  often  succeeded  in  having 
their  incomes  lightly  assessed.  By  way  of  increasing  the 
inequality  of  taxation,  the  government  had  a  habit,  when 
in  need  of  more  money  than  usual,  of  adding  a  percentage 
to  some  old  tax,  instead  of  devising  a  new  one,  thus  bear- 
ing most  heavily  with  the  new  impost  on  those  classes 
which  were  most  severely  taxed  already. 

First  among  French  taxes,  both  in  blundering  unfair- 
ness and  in  evil  fame,  came  the  Land  Tax  or  Taille, 
producing  for  the  twenty -four  districts  a  revenue  of  about 
forty-five  million  livres,  or  with  its  accessory  taxes,  of 
about  seventy -five  millions.  ^ 

1  Necker,  Compte  rendu,  74.  Ibid.,  De  V Administration,  ii.  225, 
292.  Lavergne,  Les  Assemblees  provinciales  sous  Louis  XVI.  Lugay, 
Les  Assemblees  provinciales  sous  Louis  XVI.,  163. 

2  Bailly,  ii.  307.     Necker,  De  V Administration,  i.  G,  35,  puts  the 


214     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

The  taille  was  of  feudal  origin,  and  in  tlie  Middle  Ages 
was  paid  to  the  lord  by  his  tenants.  In  the  fifteenth  cen- 
tury, however,  it  had  already  been  diverted  to  the  royal 
treasury,  and  its  product  was  employed  in  the  maintenance 
of  troops.  It  was  therefore  paid  only  by  villeins,  for  the 
nobles  served  in  person,  and  the  clergy  by  substitute,  if 
at  all. 

The  exemption  of  the  upper  orders  from  liability  to  the 
taille  clung  to  that  tax  after  the  reason  for  such  freedom 
had  ceased  to  exist.  The  tax  itself  early  grew  to  be  of 
two  kinds,  real  and  personal.  The  taille  reele^  common 
in  the  southern  provinces  of  France,  was  a  true  land-tax, 
assessed  according  to  a  survey  and  valuation  on  all  lands 
not  accounted  noble,  nor  belonging  to  the  church,  nor  to 
the  public.  The  distinction  between  noble  and  peasant 
lands  was  an  old  one ;  and  the  peasant  lands  paid  the  tax 
even  when  owned  by  privileged  persons.^ 

Over  the  greater  part  of  France,  however,  the  taille 
reele  did  not  exist,  and  only  the  taille  personelle  was  in 
force.  This  bore  on  the  profits  of  the  land  and  on  all 
forms  of  industry;  but  the  churchmen  and  the  nobles 
were  exempt,  at  least  in  part.^  Owing  to  its  personal 
nature,  the  tax  was  payable  at  the  residence  of  the  person 
taxed.  If  a  peasant  lived  in  one  parish  and  derived  most 
of  his  income  from  land  situated  in  another,  he  was  taxa- 
ble at  the  place  of  his  residence,  at  a  rate  perhaps  entirely 
different  from  that  of  the  parish  in  which  his  farm  was 
situated.  It  might  happen  that  a  large  part  of  the  lands 
of  a  parish  were  owned  by  non-residents,  and  that  the 
ability  of  the  parish  to  pay  its  taxes  was  thus  reduced. 
But  there  were  exceptions  to  the  rule  by  which  the  tax  f  ol- 

taille  at  91  millions,  but  I  think  he  includes  the  failles  abonnees,  paid 
by  the  Pays  d'etats,  although  not  those  paid  by  cities. 

1  Turgot,  iv.  74. 

2  There  appears  to  have  been  a  limit  to  the  exemption  of  nobles 
cultivating  their  own  lands. 


TAXATION.  215 

lowed  the  person,  and  the  whole  matter  was  so  complicated 
as  to  be  a  fertile  cause  of  dispute  and  of  double  taxa- 
tion. ^ 

The  method  of  assessment  and  levy  was  peculiar.  The 
gross  amount  of  the  taille  was  determined  twice  a  year  by 
the  royal  council,  and  apportioned  arbitrarily  among  the 
twenty-four  districts  (generalites)  of  France,  and  then 
subdivided  by  various  officials  among  the  sub -districts 
(elections)  and  the  parishes.  The  divisions  thus  made 
were  very  unequal;  some  provinces,  sub-districts,  and 
parishes  being  treated  much  more  severely  than  others, 
apparently  rather  by  accident  or  custom  than  for  any 
equitable  reason.  An  influential  person  could  often  obtain 
a  diminution  of  the  tax  of  his  village.  When  the  work 
of  subdivision  was  completed,  the  syndics  and  other  par- 
ish officers  were  notified  of  the  tax  laid  on  their  parishes, 
which  were  thenceforth  liable  for  the  amount.  But  the 
taille  had  still  to  be  apportioned  among  the  inhabitants. 
For  this  purpose  from  three  to  seven  collectors  were 
elected  in  every  rural  community  by  poptdar  vote.  The 
collectors  assessed  their  neighbors  at  their  own  discretion, 
and  were  personally  responsible  to  the  government  for 
the  whole  amount  assessed  on  the  parish.  In  considera- 
tion of  this,  and  of  their  labor,  they  were  allowed  to  collect 
a  percentage  in  addition  to  the  taille,  for  their  own  pay.^ 
The  whole  process  was  the  cause  of  endless  bickerings 
and  disputes,  lawsuits  and  appeals,  and  the  collectors  were 
frequently  ruined  in  spite  of  all  their  efforts.  They  were 
ignorant  peasants,  unused  to  accounts,  sometimes  unable 
to  read.  In  some  of  the  moimtain  parishes  of  the  Pyre- 
nees their  accounts  were  kept  on  notched  sticks  to  a  period 
not  very  long  before  the  Revolution. ^ 

^  Turgot,  iv.  76. 

2  "  Six  deniers  par  livre  "  =  2^  per  cent.  Turgot,  vii.  125.  Some- 
times 5  per  cent.    Babeau,  Le  Village,  225. 

a  Bailly,  ii.  159.    Horn,  224.    Babeau,  Le  Village,  222,  224.  Turgot, 


216     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FKENCH  REVOLUTION. 

The  liability  to  the  taille  was  joint.  A  gross  sum  was 
laid  on  the  parish,  and  if  one  person  escaped,  or  was 
unable  to  pay,  his  share  had  to  be  borne  by  the  rest. 
On  the  other  hand,  if  one  man  were  overcharged,  the 
burden  of  his  neighbors  was  lightened.  Thus  it  was 
every  one's  interest  to  seem  poor.  And  the  taxes  were 
so  important  a  matter,  taking  so  large  a  part  of  the  yearly 
income,  that  they  modified  the  whole  conduct  of  life. 
People  dared  not  appear  at  their  ease,  lest  their  shares 
should  be  increased.  They  hid  their  wealth  and  took 
their  luxuries  in  secret.  One  day,  Jean  Jacques  Rous- 
seau, traveling  on  foot,  as  was  his  wont,  entered  a  soli- 
tary farm-house,  and  asked  for  a  meal.  A  pot  of 
skimmed  milk  and  some  coarse  barley  bread  were  set  be- 
fore him,  the  peasant  who  lived  in  the  house  saying  that 
this  was  all  he  had.  After  a  while,  however,  the  man 
took  courage  on  observing  the  manners  and  the  appetite 
of  his  guest.  Telling  Eousseau  that  he  was  sure  he  was 
a  good,  honest  feUow,  and  no  spy,  he  disappeared  through 
a  trap-door,  and  presently  came  back  with  good  wheaten 
bread,  a  little  dark  with  bran,  a  ham,  and  a  bottle  of 
wine.  An  omelet  was  soon  sizzling  in  the  dish.  When 
the  time  came  for  Rousseau  to  pay  and  depart,  the  peas- 
ant's fears  returned.  He  refused  money,  he  was  evi- 
dently distressed.  Rousseau  made  out  that  the  bread  and 
the  wine  were  hidden  for  fear  of  the  tax-gatherer;  that 
the  man  believed  he  would  be  ruined,  if  he  were  known  to 
have  anything.^ 

As  it  was  for  the  advantage  of  individuals  to  be  thought 
poor,  so  it  was  best  for  villages  to  appear  squalid.  The 
Marquis  of  Argenson  writes  in  his  journal;  "An  officer 
of  the  election  has  come  into  the  village  where  my  coun- 

vii.  122,  iv.  51.  Encyclopedie,  xv.  841  (Taille).   A  similar  practice  ex- 
isted in  the  English  Court  of  Exchequer,  to  a  later  date. 

2  Rousseau,  xvii.  281  (Confessions,  Part  i.  liv.  iv.).  Vauban,  51, 
ysid  passim.     Bois-Guillebert,  191. 


TAXATION.  217 

try-house  is,  and  has  said  that  the  taille  of  the  parish 
would  be  much  raised  this  year ;  he  had  noticed  that  the 
peasants  looked  fatter  than  elsewhere,  had  seen  hens' 
feathers  lying  about  the  doors,  that  people  were  living 
well  and  were  comfortable,  that  I  spent  a  great  deal  of 
money  in  the  village  for  my  household  expenses,  etc. 
This  is  what  discourages  the  peasants.  This  is  what 
causes  the  misfortunes  of  the  kingdom.  This  is  what 
Henry  IV.  would  weep  over  were  he  living  now."  ^ 

The  country  people  had  grown  to  be  very  distrustful 
and  suspicious  wherever  officials  of  the  government  were 
concerned.  "  I  remember  a  singular  feature  of  this  sub- 
ject," says  Necker.  "I  think  it  was  twenty  years  ago  that 
an  intendant,  with  the  laudable  intention  of  encouraging 
the  manufacture  of  honey  and  the  cultivation  of  bees, 
began  by  asking  for  statistics  as  to  the  niunber  of  hives 
kept  in  the  province.  The  people  did  not  understand  his 
intentions,  they  were,  perhaps,  suspicious  of  them,  and  in 
a  few  days  almost  all  the  hives  were  destroyed."  ^ 

No  one  could  be  induced  to  pay  promptly,  lest  he  should 
be  thought  to  have  money.  The  tax  was  due  in  four  pay- 
ments, from  the  first  of  October  to  the  last  of  April,  but 
the  collection  of  one  instalment  was  seldom  completed 
before  the  following  one  was  due;  that  of  one  year 
seldom  made  before  the  next  had  come.  The  peasants 
obliged  the  collectors  to  wring  out  the  hard-earned  copper 
pieces  one  or  two  at  a  time.  The  tardy  were  vexed  with 
fines  and  distraints.  Furniture,  doors,  the  very  rafters 
and  floors  were  sold  for  unpaid  taxes.  In  the  time  of 
Louis  XV. ,  if  a  whole  village  fell  too  much  behindhand, 
its  four  principal  inhabitants  might  be  seized  and  carried 
off  to  jail.     This  corporal  joint-liability  was  ended  by  a 

1  D'Argenson,  vi.  25G  (Sept.  12,  1750).  See  also  vi.  425,  vii.  55, 
viii.  8,  35,  53. 

2  De  V Administratiorit  iii.  232. 


218  THE   EVE   OF   THE   FRENCH   REVOLUTION. 

law  passed  under  the  ministry  of  Turgot,  and  apparently 
not  rej)ealed  on  his  fall.^ 

The  assessment  and  collection  of  the  taille  presented 
many  anomalies.  In  some  places  commissioners  had 
been  appointed  by  the  intendant,  for  the  purpose  of 
assessing  estates  and  of  reckoning  the  value  of  day's  labor 
of  artisans.  This  method  worked  well  and  gave  satisfac- 
tion, but  it  extended  only  to  a  few  provinces.^ 

From  the  land  tax  we  pass  to  the  Twentieths  (vingt' 
iemes^\  which,  as  their  name  implies,  were  in  theory 
taxes  of  five  per  cent,  on  incomes.  From  these  the  clergy 
only  were  freed  (having  bought  of  the  crown  a  perpetual 
exemption).  Two  twentieths  and  four  sous  in  the  livre 
of  the  first  twentieth,  or  eleven  per  cent.,  was  the  regular 
rate  in  the  reign  of  Louis  XVI.,  and  was  expected  to 
bring  in  from  fifty -five  to  sixty  million  livres  a  year.  A 
third  twentieth  was  laid  in  1782,  to  last  for  three  years 
after  the  end  of  the  war  of  the  American  Revolution,  then 
in  progress.  This  twentieth  brought  in  twenty-one  and 
a  half  millions  only,  on  account  of  various  exemptions 
that  were  allowed.  The  liability  to  the  twentieths  was 
not  joint  but  individual;  so  that  when  a  deduction  was 
made  from  the  amount  charged  to  one  tax -payer,  the  sum 
demanded  of  the  others  was  not  increased. 

An  attempt  was  made  to  levy  the  twentieths  on  the 
various  sorts  of  income.  The  product  of  agriculture  paid 
the  largest  part,  but  a  percentage  was  retained  on  salaries 
and  pensions  paid  by  the  government,  and  the  incomes  of 
public  officers  receiving  fees  was  estimated.  In  spite  of 
the  desire  to  include  every  income  in  the  operation  of  this 

1  Horn,  238  ;  Vauban  ;  Bailly,  ii.  203  ;  Stourm,  i.  52  ;  Turgot, 
vii.  119. 

2  Babeau,  Le  Village,  214. 

3  Not  to  be  confounded  with  the  Droit  de  vingtieme,  an  indirect 
tax  on  wine.  Kaufmann,  33.  Notice  that  the  two  vingti'emes  are  con- 
stantly spoken  of  as  the  dlxieme. 


TAXATION.  219 

tax,  it  was  generally  believed  that  valuations  were  habit- 
ually made  too  low,  and  that  unfair  discrimination  took 
place.  The  inhabitants  of  some  provinces,  on  the  other 
hand,  were  thought  to  be  overcharged.  Attempts  at  rec- 
tification were  resisted  by  the  courts  of  law,  the  doctrine 
being  asserted  that  the  valuation  of  a  man's  income  for 
the  purposes  of  this  tax  could  not  legally  be  increased. 
It  is  instructive  to  compare  the  interest  thus  shown  in  the 
rights  of  the  upper  classes,  who  shared  in  the  payment  of 
the  twentieths,  with  the  indifference  manifested  to  the 
arbitrary  manner  in  which  the  common  people  were  treated 
in  levying  the  Land  Tax.^ 

The  poll  tax  (capitatioii)  was  one  only  in  name.  It 
was  in  fact  a  roughly  reckoned  income  tax,  and  the  inhab- 
itants of  France  were  for  its  purposes  divided  into  twenty- 
two  classes,  according  to  their  supposed  ability  to  pay. 
In  the  country,  the  amount  demanded  for  this  tax  was 
usually  proportioned  to  that  of  the  personal  taille.  Peo- 
ple who  paid  no  taille  were  assessed  according  to  their 
public  office,  military  rank,  business,  or  profession.  The 
rules  were  complicated,  giving  rise  to  endless  disputes. 
In  theory  the  very  poor  were  exempt,  but  the  exemption 
was  not  very  generous,  for  maid-servants  were  charged  at 
the  rate  of  three  livres  and  twelve  sous  a  year,  and  there 
were  yet  poorer  people  who  paid  less  than  half  that  amount. 
If  the  poor  man  failed  to  pay,  a  garrison  (garnisoii)  was 
lodged  upon  him.  A  man  in  blue,  with  a  gun,  came  and 
sat  by  his  fire,  slept  in  his  bed,  and  laid  hands  on  any 
money  that  might  come  into  the  house,  thus  collecting  the 

^  Necker  reckons  the  two  vmgtiemes  and  four  sous  at  55,000,000 
livres.  De  V Administration,  \.b,(S.  Compte  rendu,  Gl.  Ih'id.,  Memoire 
au  roi  sur  V dstablissement  des  administrations  provinciales,  25.  Necker 
abolished  the  vingtieme  dHndustrie  applied  to  manufactures  and  com- 
merce. Compte  rendu,  64.  In  his  later  book  he  speaks  of  it  as  sub- 
sisting in  a  few  provinces  only.  De  V Administration,  i.  159.  Turgot, 
iv.  289.     Stourm,  i.  54. 


220     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

tax  and  his  own  wages.  The  amount  levied  by  the  poll- 
tax  and  accessories  was  from  thirty-six  to  forty -two  mil- 
lion livres  a  year.^ 

The  indirect  taxes  of  France  were  mostly  farmed. 
Once  in  six  years  the  Controller  General  of  the  Finances 
for  the  time  being  entered  into  a  contract,  nominally 
with  a  man  of  straw,  but  actually  with  a  body  of  rich 
financiers,  who  appeared  as  the  man's  sureties,  and  who 
were  known  as  the  Farmers  General.  The  first  opera- 
tion of  the  Farmers,  after  entering  into  the  contract,  was 
to  raise  a  capital  sum  for  the  purpose  of  buying  out  their 
predecessors,  of  taking  over  the  material  on  hand,  and  of 
paying  an  advance  to  the  government;  for  although  many 
individual  Farmers  General  held  over  from  one  contract 
to  the  next,  the  association  was  a  new  one  for  each  lease. 
In  1774,  just  before  the  death  of  King  Louis  XV.,  a  new 
contract  was  made,  and  the  capital  advanced  amounted 
to  93,600,000  livres.  The  Farmers  were  allowed  interest 
on  this  sum  at  the  rate  of  ten  per  cent,  for  the  first  sixty 
millions,  and  of  seven  percent,  for  the  remaining  33,600,- 
000  livres.  This  interest  was,  however,  taxed  by  the 
government  for  the  two  twentieths. 

The  rent  paid  by  the  Farmers  under  this  contract  was 
152,000,000  livres  a  year,  for  which  consideration  they 
were  allowed  to  collect  the  indirect  taxes  and  keep  the 
product.  This  system,  which  is  at  least  as  old  as  the 
New  Testament,  is  now  generally  condemned,  but  in 
the  eighteenth  century  it  found  defenders  even  among 
liberal  writers. 

The  Farmers  General  in  the  contract  of  1774  were  sixty 
in  number,  but  they  did  not  divide  among  themselves  all 

1  Bailly,  ii.  307.  Necker,  DeV Administration,  i.  8.  Mercier,  iii.  98, 
xi.  96.  Mercier  thinks  that  the  capitation  was  more  feared  than  the 
dixieme,  and  than  the  entrees,  because  it  attached  more  directly  to  the 
individual  and  to  his  person.  Does  this  mean  greater  severity  in 
collection  ?     Notice  that  he  writes  of  Paris,  where  there  is  no  taille. 


TAXATION.  221 

the  profits  of  the  enterprise.  It  was  the  habit  to  accord 
to  many  people  a  share  in  the  operations  of  the  farm, 
without  any  voice  in  its  management.  The  people  thus 
favored  were  called  croupiers ;  king  Louis  XV.  himself 
was  one  of  them.  His  Controller  General,  the  Abbe 
Terray,  received  a  fee  of  three  hundred  thousand  livres 
on  concluding  the  contract,  and  the  promise  of  one  thou- 
sand livres  for  every  million  of  profits.  When  the  bar- 
gain had  been  struck  and  the  advance  paid,  he  announced 
to  the  Farmers  that  further  croupes  would  be  granted, 
and  that  sundry  payments  must  be  made  to  the  treasury. 
The  profits  of  the  undertaking  were  thus  materially  re- 
duced. The  Farmers  at  first  threatened  to  throw  up  their 
bargain,  but  the  Controller  told  them  that  if  they  did  so 
he  would  not  return  their  advances,  but  only  pay  interest 
on  them.  In  spite  of  this  swindle,  the  lease  turned  out 
on  the  whole  much  to  the  benefit  of  the  Farmers. 

In  1780,  when  the  lease  above  mentioned  expired, 
Necker  was  Director  of  the  Finances.  He  introduced 
reforms  into  the  General  Farm,  cutting  down  the  number 
of  Farmers  from  sixty  to  forty,  and  reducing  their  gains. 
The  collection  of  certain  taxes  was  taken  from  them,  and 
entrusted  to  new  companies.  His  contract  was  for  a  rent 
of  122,900,000  livres  and  the  advance  was  forty-eight 
millions,  for  which  the  Farmers  received  seven  per  cent. 
Moreover,  the  latter  were  not  to  take  the  whole  profit 
above  the  rent  of  the  Farm.  The  first  three  millions  of 
that  profit  went  to  the  treasury,  which  also  received  one 
half  of  the  remaining  gains,  but  croupes  and  pensions  on 
the  Farm  were  totally  abolished.  Necker  reckons  the  total 
sum  drawn  yearly  by  the  Farmers  from  the  people  under 
his  administration  at  184,000,000  livres,  and  the  sums 
collected  by  the  two  new  companies  of  his  own  devising, 
for  the  collection  of  the  excise  on  drinkables  and  for  the 
administration  of  the  royal  domains  at  92,000,000  more. 

The  Farmers  General  were  the  most  conspicuous  repre- 


222     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

sentatives  in  France  of  the  moneyed  class,  which  was  just 
rising  into  importance  beside  the  old  aristocracy,  by 
whose  members  it  was  despised  but  courted.  Many  of 
the  Farmers  were  of  low  origin  and  had  risen  to  fortune 
by  their  own  abilities.  Others  belonged  to  families  which 
had  long  made  a  mark  in  the  financial  world.  Their  lux- 
urious style  of  life  was  admired  by  the  vulgar  and  derided 
by  the  envious.  The  offices  of  the  Farm  occupied  several 
historic  houses  in  Paris.  In  the  chief  of  these  the  French 
Academy  had  once  held  its  sittings  under  the  presidency 
of  Seguier,  and  the  walls  and  ceilings  shone  with  pictures 
from  the  brushes  of  Lebrun  and  Mignard.  The  ware- 
houses and  offices  for  the  monopoly  of  tobacco  occupied 
a  fine  building  between  the  Louvre  and  the  Tuileries, 
where  once  the  duchesses  of  Chevreuse  and  of  Longue- 
ville  had  prosecuted  their  political  and  amorous  intrigues. 
The  discontented  tax -payers  grumbled  the  louder  at  seeing 
the  hated  publicans  so  handsomely  lodged.  ^ 

The  first  and  most  dreaded  of  the  indirect  taxes  was 
the  Salt  Tax  (cjahelle).  As  salt  is  necessary  for  all,  it 
has  from  early  days  been  considered  by  some  governments 
a  good  article  for  a  tax,  no  one  being  able  to  escape  pay- 
ment by  going  entirely  without  it.  To  make  the  revenue 
more  secure,  every  householder  in  certain  parts  of  France 
was  obliged  to  buy  seven  pounds  of  salt  a  year  at  the 
warehouses  of  the  Farm,  for  every  member  of  his  family 
more  than  seven  years  old.  In  spite  of  this,  a  certain 
economy  in  the  use  of  the  article  became  the  habit  of  the 

1  The  total  receipts  of  the  Farm,  according  to  Necker,  were  186,- 
000,000  livres.  Against  this  sum  must  be  set  2,000,000  for  salt  and 
tobacco  sold  to  foreigners  ;  16,000,000  for  the  cost  of  salt  and  to- 
bacco, and  8,000,000  for  the  cost  of  other  articles  to  the  Farm.  The 
amount  of  actual  taxation  collected  by  the  Farm  would  therefore 
seem  to  have  been  about  160,000,000.  Necker,  De  V Administration^ 
i.  9,  14,  iii.  122.  Lemoine,  Les  derniers  fermiers  generaux,  passim. 
Bailly,  ii.  185,  n.  and  passim.  Encyclopedic,  vi.  515  (Fermes,  Cinq 
grosses)  vi.  513,  etc.  (Fermes  du  roi).     Bertiu,  480.     M^rcier,  xii.  89. 


TAXATION.  223 

French  nation,  and  the  traveler  of  the  nineteenth  century- 
may  bless  the  government  of  the  Bourbons  when  for  once 
in  his  life  he  finds  himself  in  a  country  where  the  cooks 
do  not  habitually  oversalt  the  soup. 

The  unfortunate  Frenchmen  of  the  eighteenth  century- 
had  to  pay  dear  for  this  culinary  lesson.  But  in  this  mat- 
ter as  in  others  they  did  not  all  pay  alike.  The  whole 
product  of  the  salt  tax  to  the  treasury  was  about  sixty  mil- 
lion livres,  of  which  two  thirds,  or  forty  millions,  was  taken 
from  provinces  containing  a  little  more  than  one  third  of 
the  population  of  the  kingdom.  Necker,  who  much  de- 
sired to  equalize  the  impost,  mentions  six  principal  cate- 
gories of  provinces  in  regard  to  the  salt  tax ;  varying  from 
those  in  which  the  sale  was  free,  and  the  article  worth 
from  two  to  nine  livres  the  hundred  weight,  to  those  where 
it  was  a  monopoly  of  the  Farm,  and  the  salt  cost  the  con- 
sumer about  sixty -two  livres.  Salt  being  thus  worth  thirty 
times  as  much  in  one  province  as  in  another,  it  was  pos- 
sible for  a  successful  smuggler  to  make  a  living  by  a  very- 
few  trips.  The  opportunity  was  largely  used;  children 
were  trained  by  their  parents  for  the  illicit  traffic,  but  the 
penalties  were  very  severe.  In  the  galleys  were  many- 
salt-smugglers;  people  were  shut  up  on  mere  suspicion, 
and  in  the  crowded  prisons  of  that  day  were  carried  off  by- 
jail-fevers.^ 

Of  all  known  stimulants,  tobacco  is  perhaps  the  most 
agreeable  and  the  least  injurious  to  the  person  who  takes 
it ;  but  no  method  of  taking  it  has  yet  been  devised  which 
is  not  liable  to  be  offensive  to  the  delicate  nerves  of  some 
bystander.     It  is  probably  on  this  account  that  a  certain 

^  Necker,  De  V Administration,  ii.  1.  Ibid.,  Compte  rendu,  82,  and 
see  the  map  of  France  divided  according^  to  the  gahelle  in  the  same 
vohune.  Bailly,  ii.  163.  Clamageran,  iii.  84  n.,  29G,  406.  For  the 
numerous  officers  and  complicated  system  of  the  gahelle,  see  Encyclo- 
■pedie,  vii.  942  (Grenier  a  sel)  ;  Quintal  =  100  French  pounds  j  but 
which  of  the  numerous  French  pounds,  I  know  not. 


224     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

discredit  has  always  attached  to  this  most  soothing  herb, 
and  that  it  seldom  gets  fair  treatment  in  the  matter  of 
taxation.  Over  a  large  part  of  France,  containing  some 
twenty-two  millions  of  inhabitants,  tobacco  had  been  sub- 
ject to  monopoly  for  a  hundred  years  when  Louis  XVI. 
came  to  the  tlirone,^  yet  the  use  of  the  article  had  become 
so  general  that  this  population  bought  fifteen  million 
pounds  yearly,  or  between  five  eighths  and  three  quarters 
of  a  pound  per  head.  Of  this  amount  about  one  twelfth 
was  used  for  smoking  in  pipes,  and  the  remainder  was 
consumed  in  the  pleasant  form  of  snuff.  Three  livres 
fifteen  sous  a  pound  was  the  price  set  by  the  government 
and  collected  by  the  Farmers,  and  the  tobacco  was  often 
mouldy.^ 

The  excise  on  wine  and  cider  (aides)  was  levied  not 
only  on  the  producer,  but  also  on  the  consmner,  in  a  most 
vexatious  manner,  so  that  the  revenue  officers  were  con- 
tinually forcing  their  way  into  private  houses,  and  so  that 
the  poor  peasant  who  quietly  diluted  his  measure  of  cider 
with  two  measures  of  water  was  lucky  if  he  got  off  with 
a  triple  tax,  and  did  not  undergo  fine  and  forfeiture  for 
having  untaxed  cider  in  his  house.  It  was  moreover  a 
principle  with  the  officers  of  the  excise  that  wine  was 
never  given  away ;  and  as  a  tax  was  due  on  every  sale  the 
poor  vine-dresser  could  not  give  a  part  of  the  produce  of 
his  vineyard  to  his  married  children,  or  even  bestow  a  few 
bottles  in  alms  on  a  poor,  sick  woman  without  getting 
into  trouble,  and  all  this  notwithstanding  the  fact  that 
in  France  in  the  eighteenth  century,  when  tea  and  coffee 
were  unknown  to  the  rural  classes,  and  when  drinking 
water  was  often  taken  from  polluted  wells,  wine  or  cider 
was  generally  considered  necessary  to  health  and  to  life. 

It  is  needless  to  consider  in  detail  the  duties  on  imports 

^  With  an  interval  of  two  years,  during  which  it  was  subject  to  a 
high  duty.     Stourm,  i.  361. 

2  Necker,  De  V Administration,  ii.  100.     Babeau,  La  vie  rurale,  78. 


TAXATION.  225 

and  exports  {traites).  From  the  beginning  of  the  eigh- 
teenth century  until  three  years  after  the  end  of  the 
American  War,  commerce  between  France  and  England 
was  totally  prohibited  as  to  most  articles,  and  subjected 
to  prohibitory  duties  in  the  case  of  the  few  that  remained. 
This  state  of  things  was  tempered  by  a  great  system  of 
smuggling,  so  successfully  conducted  that  insurance  in 
many  cases  was  as  low  as  ten  and  even  as  five  per  cent. 
Goods  were  sometimes  taken  directly  from  one  coast  to 
the  other  on  dark  nights,  and  no  reader  of  the  literature 
of  the  last  century  will  need  to  be  reminded  that  the 
"free  traders"  who  brought  them  were  favorably  received 
by  the  people  among  whom  they  might  come  to  land. 
Sometimes  the  articles  were  sent  by  circuitous  routes 
through  Holland  or  Germany,  on  whose  frontiers  the 
same  walls  of  prohibition  did  not  exist.  But  there  were 
many  things  which  could  not  conveniently  be  smuggled, 
and  in  their  case  the  want  of  competition,  and  still  more 
the  lack  of  standards  of  comparison,  tended  to  retard  and 
injure  production.  While  improved  machinery  for  spin- 
ning and  weaving  was  common  in  England,  the  old  spin- 
dle, wheel,  and  house-loom  still  held  their  own  in  France. 

In  the  year  1786,  a  commercial  treaty  was  signed  be- 
tween the  two  countries.  By  its  provisions  French  wines 
were  put  on  a  better  footing,  and  many  manufactured 
articles,  as  hardware,  cutlery,  linen,  gauze,  and  milli- 
nery were  to  pay  but  ten  or  twelve  per  cent.  The  confu- 
sion of  business  which  was  the  natural  result  of  so  great  a 
change  had  not  ceased  to  be  felt  when  the  great  Ke volu- 
tion began  to  disturb  all  commercial  relations. 

It  was  not  at  the  frontiers  alone  that  commerce  was 
subject  to  tolls  and  duties.  Trade  was  hampered  on 
every  road  and  river  in  the  kingdom,  and  so  compli- 
cated were  these  local  dues  that  it  was  said  that  not  more 
than  two  or  three  men  in  a  generation  understood  them 
thoroughly. 


226  THE   EVE    OF   THE   FRENCH    REVOLUTION. 

Duties  on  food  were  then  as  now  collected  at  the  en- 
trance of  many  French  cities  (octrois).  In  the  last  century 
they  were  often  partial  in  their  operation;  such  of  the 
burghers  as  owned  farms  or  gardens  outside  the  walls 
being  allowed  to  bring  in  their  produce  without  charge, 
while  their  poorer  neighbors  were  obliged  to  pay  duties 
on  all  they  ate.  In  Paris  some  kinds  of  food,  and  nota= 
bly  fish,  were  both  bad  and  dear,  because  the  charges  at 
the  city  gate  were  many  times  as  great  as  the  original 
value.  ^ 

There  was  another  burden  which  shared  with  the  taille 
and  the  gabelle  the  especial  hatred  of  the  French  peas- 
antry. This  was  the  villein  service  (corvee)  which  was 
exacted  of  the  farmers  and  agricultural  laborers.  The 
service  was  of  feudal  origin,  and,  while  stiU  demanded 
in  many  cases  by  the  lords,  in  accordance  with  ancient 
charters  or  customs,  was  now  also  required  by  the  state  for 
the  building  of  roads  and  the  transportation  of  soldiers' 
baggage.  The  demand  was  based  on  no  general  law,  but 
was  imposed  arbitrarily  by  intendants  and  military  com- 
manders. The  amount  due  by  every  parish  was  settled 
without  appeal  by  the  same  authorities.  The  peasant  and 
his  draft-cattle  were  ordered  away  from  home,  perhaps 
just  at  the  time  of  harvest.  On  the  roads  might  be  seen 
the  overloaded  carts,  where  the  tired  soldiers  had  piled 
themselves  on  top  of  their  baggage,  while  their  comrades 
goaded  the  slow  teams  with  swords  and  bayonets,  and 
jeered  at  the  remonstrances  of  the  unhappy  owner.  The 
oxen  were  often  injured  by  unusual  labor  and  harsh  treat- 
ment, and  one  sick  ox  would  throw  a  whole  team  out  of 
work.     The  burden,  imposed  on  the  parish  collectively, 

1  See  the  pathetic  cahier  of  the  village  of  Pavaut,  Archives  park- 
mentaires,  v.  9.  Vauban,  Dime  royale,  26,  51.  Montesquieu,  iv.  122 
{Esprit  des  Lois,  liv.  xiii.  c.  7).  Necker,  De  V Administration,  ii.  113. 
Encylopedie  meViodique,  Finance,  iii.  709  (Traites).  Turgot,  vii.  37. 
Mercier,  xi.  100.     Stourm,  i.  325. 


TAXATION.  227 

was  distributed  among  the  peasants  by  their  syndics, 
political  officers,  often  partial,  who  were  sometimes  ac- 
companied in  their  work  of  selection  by  files  of  soldiers, 
equally  rough  and  impatient  with  the  refractory  peasants 
and  the  wretched  official.  Turgot,  who  was  keenly  alive 
to  the  hardships  of  the  corvee^  abolished  it  during  his 
short  term  of  power,  substituting  a  tax,  but  it  was  restored 
by  his  successor  immediately  on  his  fall,  and  was  not 
discontinued  until  the  end  of  the  monarchy. ^ 

It  is  entirely  impossible  to  discover,  even  approximately, 
what  proportion  of  a  Frenchman's  income  was  taken  in 
taxes  by  the  government  of  Louis  XVI.  We  may  g-uess 
that  the  burden  was  too  large,  we  may  be  sure  that  it 
was  iU  distributed,  yet  under  it  prosperity  and  popula- 
tion were  slowly  increasing. 

Let  us  take  the  figures  of  Necker,  as  the  most  moder- 
ate. It  is  the  fashion  to  make  light  of  Necker,  and  he 
certainly  was  not  a  man  of  sufficient  strength  and  genius 
to  overcome  all  the  difficulties  with  which  he  was  sur- 
rounded, but  he  probably  knew  more  about  the  condition 
of  France  than  any  other  man  then  living.  Let  us  then 
take  his  figures  and  suppose  that  the  two  twentieths,  and 
the  four  sous  per  livre  of  the  first  twentieth,  produced 
the  eleven  per  cent,  which  they  should  theoretically  have 
given.  In  that  case  eleven  per  cent,  of  the  country's  in- 
come was  equal  to  fifty-five  million  livres.  But  at  that 
rate  the  direct  taxes  and  tithes  would  have  taken  more 
than  half  the  income,  and  the  indirect  taxes  more  than 
the  other  half,  and  French  subjects  would  have  been  left 

1  The  corvees  owned  by  the  lords  were  limited  by  legal  custom  to 
twelve  days  a  year.  Encydopedie,  iv.  280  (Corvee).  I  can  find  no 
such  limitations  of  corvees  imposed  by  the  government.  Some 
regard  seems  to  have  been  paid  to  peasants'  convenience  in  fixing  the 
season  of  corvees  of  road  building,  but  none  in  those  of  military  trans- 
portation. Compensation  was  given  for  the  latter,  but  it  was  inade- 
quate, hardly  amounting  to  one  fourth  of  the  market  price  of  such 
labor.     Turgot,  iv.  367.     Bailly,  ii.  215. 


228  THE   EVE   OF   THE   FRENCH   REVOLUTION. 

with  less  than  nothing  to  live  on.  Clearly,  then,  the  twen- 
tieths did  not  produce  anything  like  the  theoretical  eleven 
per  cent. 

M.  Taine  has  gone  into  the  question  with  apparent  care, 
and  his  figures  are  adopted  by  recent  writers,  but  they 
would  seem  to  be  open  to  the  same  objection.  He  reck- 
ons that  some  of  the  peasants  paid  over  eighty  per  cent,  of 
their  income.  But  if  a  man  could  pay  that  proportion 
to  the  government  year  after  year  and  not  die  of  want, 
how  very  prosperous  a  man  living  on  the  same  land  must 
be  to-day  if  his  taxes  amount  only  to  one  quarter  or  one 
third  of  his  income.  The  real  difficulty  is  one  of  assess- 
ment. We  can  tell  approximately  how  much  the  country 
paid;  we  can  never  know  the  amount  of  its  wealth. 

How  far  did  the  rich  escape  taxation  ?  The  clergy  of 
Trance  as  a  body  did  so  in  a  great  measure.  They  paid 
none  of  the  direct  taxes  levied  on  their  fellow  subjects. 
They  made  gifts  and  loans  to  the  state,  however,  and 
borrowed  money  for  the  purpose.  For  this  money  they 
paid  interest,  which  must  be  looked  on  as  their  real  con- 
tribution to  the  expenses  of  the  state.  But  in  this  again 
they  were  assisted  by  the  treasury.  The  amount  which 
finally  came  out  of  the  pockets  of  the  clergy  by  direct 
taxation  would  appear  to  have  been  less  than  ten  per  cent, 
of  their  income  from  invested  property. 

The  nobility  bore  a  larger  share.  The  only  great  tax 
from  which  the  members  of  that  order  were  exempted  was 
the  taille,  forming  less  than  one  half  of  the  direct  taxa- 
tion, less  than  one  sixth  of  the  whole.  But  in  the  other 
direct  taxes,  their  wealth  and  influence  sometimes  enabled 
them  to  escape  a  fair  assessment. 

The  indirect  taxes  also  bore  heavily  on  the  poor. 
They  were  levied  largely  on  necessaries,  such  as  salt  and 
food,  or  on  those  simple  luxuries,  wine  and  tobacco,  on 
which  Frenchmen  of  all  classes  depend  for  their  daily 
sense   of  well-being.     The  gabelle,  with  its  obligatory 


TAXATION.  229 

seven  pounds  of  salt,  approached  a  poll-tax  in  its  opera- 
tion. 

The  worst  features  of  French  taxation  were  the  arbi- 
trary spirit  which  pervaded  the  financial  administration, 
the  regulations  never  submitted  to  public  criticism,  and 
the  tyranny  and  fraud  of  subordinates,  for  which  redress 
was  seldom  attainable.  ^  We  groan  sometimes,  and  with 
reason,  at  the  publicity  with  which  all  life  is  carried  on 
to-day.  We  turn  wearily  from  the  wilderness  of  printed 
words  which  surrounds  the  simplest  matters.  But  only 
publicity  and  free  discussion  will  prevent  every  unscru- 
pulous assessor  and  every  arbitrary  clerk  in  the  custom- 
house from  being  a  petty  tyrant.  They  will  not  by  them- 
selves procure  good  government,  but  they  will  prevent 
bad  government  from  growing  intolerable.  In  France, 
as  we  have  seen,  to  print  anything  which  might  stir  the 
public  mind  was  a  capital  offense ;  and  while  the  writer 
of  an  abstract  treatise  subversive  of  religion  and  gov- 
ernment might  hope  to  escape  punishment,  the  citizen 
who  earned  the  resentment  of  a  petty  official  was  likely 
to  be  prosecuted  with  virulence. 

1  Horn,  254. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

FINANCE. 


Certain  financial  practices,  not  immediately  connected 
with  taxation,  call  for  a  short  notice ;  for  they  are  among 
the  most  famous  errors  of  the  government  of  old  France. 
One  of  these  was  the  habit  of  issuing  what  were  called 
anticipations.  1  These  were  securities  with  a  limited  time 
to  run,  payable  from  a  definite  portion  of  the  future  rev- 
enue. They  were  a  favorite  form  of  investment  with  cer- 
tain people,  and  a  great  convenience  to  the  treasury,  but 
they  constantly  tended  to  increase  to  an  amount  which 
was  considered  dangerous.  Thus  the  revenue  of  each 
year  was  spent  before  it  was  collected;  and  loans  were 
contracted,  not  for  any  urgent  and  exceptional  necessity 
of  the  state,  but  for  ordinary  running  expenses.  Another 
practice  was  the  issuing  by  the  king  in  person  of  drafts 
on  the  treasury.  Such  drafts  {acquits  de  comptaiif)  were 
made  payable  to  bearer,  and  it  was  therefore  impossible 
for  the  controller  of  the  finances  to  know  for  what  pur- 
pose they  had  been  drawn.  Originally  a  device  for  the 
payment  of  the  private  expenses  of  the  king,  these  drafts 
had  become  favorite  objects  of  the  cupidity  of  the  cour- 
tiers ;  because  from  their  form  it  was  impossible  to  trace 
them  and  discover  the    recipient.     Under  Louis  XVI. 

1  Anticipations.  "  On  entendait  par  Ik  des  assignations  sur  les  re- 
venus  futurs,  remises  aux  fournisseurs  et  autres  creanciers  du  Trdsor 
et  ndgociables  entre  leurs  mains."  Clamageran,  iii.  30.  Necker, 
Compte  rendu,  20.  Stourm  (ii.  200)  thinks  the  amount  not  excessive, 
while  acknowledging  that  it  was  so  considered.  The  Anticipations 
formed  in  fact  the  floating  debt  of  the  government.     Gomel,  287. 


FINANCE.  231 

they  absorbed  more  money  than  ever  before.  It  was  very 
easy  for  that  weak  prince  to  give  a  check  to  any  one  who 
might  ask  him.  Turgot  made  him  promise  to  stop  doing 
so,  but  he  had  not  the  strength  to  keep  his  word.^ 

From  an  early  time  the  custom  of  selling  public  offices 
had  taken  root  in  France.  Before  the  middle  of  the  four- 
teenth century  we  find  Louis  X.  selling  judicial  places  to 
the  highest  bidder,  and  less  than  a  hundred  years  later 
the  practice  had  extended  so  that  all  manner  of  petty 
offices  were  sold  by  the  government.  This  method  of 
raising  money  was  so  easy  that,  in  spite  of  the  remon- 
strances of  estates  general  and  the  promises  of  kings,  it 
was  continually  extended.  In  the  sixteenth  century,  as  a 
greater  inducement  to  purchasers,  the  offices  were  made 
transferable  on  certain  conditions,  and  in  1605  they  be- 
came subjects  of  inheritance.  Places  under  government 
were  thus  assimilated  to  other  property  and  passed  from 
the  holder  to  his  heirs.  The  law  which  established  this 
state  of  things  was  called  Edit  de  la  Paulette^  after  one 
Paulet,  a  farmer  of  the  revenue. 

This  sale  of  offices  bore  a  certain  resemblance  to  a  loan 
and  to  a  tax.  The  services  to  be  performed  were  often 
unimportant,  sometimes  worse  than  useless.  But  the  sal- 
ary attached  to  the  office  might  be  considered  the  interest 
of  money  lent  to  the  crown;  or  if  the  office-holder  were 
paid  by  fees,  he  was  enabled  to  make  good  to  himself  the 
advance  made  to  the  government  by  drawing  money  from 
the  tax-payers.  Very  generally  the  two  forms  of  profit 
to  the  incumbent  were  combined,  together  with  a  third, 
the  possession,  namely,  of  privileges,  or  exemption  from 
taxation,  attached  to  the  office. 

In  managing  its  revenue  from  this  source,  the  treasury 

1  Clamageran,  iii.  380,  n.  Bailly,  i.  221,  ii.  214,  259.  The  foreign 
office  made  use  of  ordonnances  de  comptant  to  the  amount  of  several 
millions  annually,  for  subsidies  to  foreign  governments,  expenses  of 
ambassadors,  secret  service,  etc.     Stourra,  ii.  153. 


232     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

dealt  fairly  neither  with  the  office  holders  nor  with  the 
public.  Places  were  created  only  to  be  sold,  and  before 
long  were  abolished,  either  without  any  promise  of  com- 
pensation to  the  buyers,  or  with  promises  destined  never 
to  be  fulfilled.  This  want  of  faith  kept  down  the  price, 
which  was  often  but  ten  years'  purchase  of  the  income  of 
the  place.  Yet  rich  and  poor  were  eager  to  buy.  "Sir," 
said  a  minister  of  finance  to  King  Louis  XIV.,  "as  often 
as  it  pleases  your  Majesty  to  make  an  office,  it  pleases 
God  to  make  a  fool  to  fill  it." 

Thus  it  came  to  pass  that  most  places  about  the  royal 
person,  in  the  courts  of  justice  and  in  the  treasury,  and 
many  in  the  municipal  governments,  the  professions,  and 
the  trades,  were  subject  to  sale  and  purchase.  Number- 
less persons  waited  at  the  royal  table,  sat  in  the  high 
courts  of  Parliament,  weighed,  measured,  gauged,  sold 
horses,  oysters,  fish,  or  sucking  pigs,  shaved  customers  or 
gave  hot  baths,  as  public  functionaries  and  by  virtue  of 
letters  patent  sold  to  them  by  the  crown.  The  clerk  kept 
his  register,  not  because  the  information  it  contained 
would  be  useful  to  the  government,  but  because  he  or  some 
one  else  had  lent  money,  on  which  the  public  was  now 
paying  interest  in  the  form  of  registration  fees.  Thus 
the  custom  of  selling  offices  was  cumbrous  and  objection- 
able.i 

While  the  taxes  of  France  were  thus  devised  without 

1  Montesquieu  defends  the  custom,  however.  He  maintains  that 
the  offices  in  a  monarchy  should  be  venal  ;  because  people  do  as  a 
family  business  what  they  would  not  undertake  from  virtue  ;  every 
one  is  irained  to  his  duty,  and  orders  in  the  state  are  more  perma- 
nent. If  offices  were  not  sold  by  the  government  they  would  be  by 
the  courtiers.  Montesquieu,  iii.  217  {Esprit  des  Lois,  liv.  v.  cxix.). 
See  also  De  Tocqueville,  iv.  171  (Atic.  Reg.  ch.  xi.).  In  many  cases 
offices  were  desired  more  for  the  sake  of  distinction  and  privilege 
than  for  profit.  The  income  was  often  very  small.  Clamageran,  ii. 
196,  378,  569,  615,  665  ;  iii.  23,  24,  102,  155,  200,  319.  Necker,  D& 
V Administration,  iii.  147.     Thierry,  i.  163.    Pierre  de  Lestoile,  390,  n. 


FINANCE.  233 

system  and  levied  without  skill,  the  attention  of  a 
thoughtful  part  of  the  nation  had  been  turned  to  financial 
matters.  About  the  middle  of  the  century  arose  the 
Physiocrats,  the  founders  of  modern  political  economy. 
Their  leader,  Quesnay,  believed  that  positive  legislation 
shoidd  consist  in  the  declaration  of  the  natural  laws  con- 
stituting the  order  evidently  most  advantageous  for  men 
in  society.  When  once  these  were  understood,  all  would 
be  well,  for  the  absurdity  of  all  unreasonable  legislation 
would  become  manifest.  He  taught  two  cardinal  princi- 
ples; first,  "that  the  land  was  the  only  source  of  riches, 
and  that  these  were  multiplied  by  agriculture;  "  and,  sec- 
ond, that  agriculture  and  commerce  should  be  entirely 
free.  The  former  of  these  doctrines,  after  exercising  a 
good  deal  of  influence  by  calling  attention  to  the  injustice 
and  oppression  with  which  the  agricultural  class  in  France 
was  treated,  has  ceased  to  be  believed  as  a  statement  of 
absolute  truth.  The  latter,  adopted  with  great  enthu- 
siasm by  many  generous  minds,  has  exercised  a  deep  in- 
fluence on  modern  thought. 

Manufactures,  according  to  Quesnay,  do  no  more  than 
pay  the  wages  and  expenses  fti  the  workmen  engaged  in 
them.  But  agriculture  not  only  pays  wages  and  expenses, 
but  produces  a  surplus,  which  is  the  revenue  of  the  land. 
He  divides  the  nation  into  three  classes :  (1)  the  produc- 
tive, which  cultivates  the  soil ;  (2)  the  proprietary,  which 
includes  the  sovereign,  the  land-owners,  and  those  who 
live  by  tithes,  in  other  words  the  nobility  and  the  clergy; 
and  (8)  the  sterile,  which  embraces  all  men  who  labor 
otherwise  than  in  agriculture,  and  whose  expenses  are 
paid  by  the  productive  and  proprietary  classes.  There- 
fore he  argues  that  taxes  should  be  based  directly  on  the 
net  product  of  real  estate,  and  not  on  wages  nor  on  chat- 
tels. In  other  words,  all  taxes  should  be  levied  directly 
on  the  income  derived  from  land,  and  indirect  taxation  in 
every  shape  should  be  abolished. 


234     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

Liberty  of  agriculture,  liberty  of  commerce!  "Let 
every  man  be  free  to  cultivate  in  his  field  such  crops  as 
his  interest,  his  means,  the  nature  of  the  ground  may 
suggest  as  rendering  the  greatest  possible  return."  "Let 
complete  liberty  of  commerce  be  maintained ;  for  the  reg- 
ulation of  commerce,  both  internal  and  external,  which  is 
most  safe,  most  accurate,  most  profitable  to  the  nation, 
consists  in  full  liberty  of  competition."  These  doctrines 
of  Quesnay,  joined  with  the  ideas  of  property  and  secu- 
rity, form  the  basis  of  the  modern  school  of  individualism.^ 

The  body  of  doctrines  long  known  as  "political  econ- 
omy," (for  the  words  seem  now  to  be  used  in  a  larger 
sense),  bore  the  mark  of  their  origin  in  the  eighteenth 
century.  Here,  as  elsewhere,  it  was  the  belief  of  French- 
men of  that  age  that  the  application  of  a  few  simple  rules 
derived  from  natural  laws  would  solve  the  difficulties  of  a 
complicated  subject.  The  principles  of  political  economy 
were  conceived  as  forming  "a  true  science,  which  does 
not  yield  to  geometry  itself  in  the  conviction  which  it  car- 
ries to  the  soul,  and  which  certainly  surpasses  all  others 
in  its  object,  since  that  is  the  greatest  well-being,  the 
greatest  prosperity  of  the  human  race  upon  the  earth." ^ 
Quesnay  and  Gournay  founded  branches  of  the  economic 
school.  The  latter,  who  printed  nothing,  is  chiefly  known 
through  the  encomiums  of  Turgot.  Gournay  was  a  mer- 
chant, and  recognized  that  commerce  and  manufactures 
are  hardly  less  advantageous  to  a  state  than  agriculture. 
This  is  the  chief  difference  of  his  teaching  from  that  of 
Quesnay.  Gournay  is  the  author  of  the  famous  maxim : 
Laissez  faire;  laissez  passer;  and  his  whole  system  de- 

1  Lavergne,  Les  Economistes,  105.  Quesnay,  (Euvres,  233, 306, 331 
{Afaximes  du  goiivernement  economique  d^un  royaume  agricole  Maxime, 
iii.  V.  xiii.  xxv.).  Turgot,  iv.  305.  Bois-Guillebert  appears  to  have 
been  the  principal  precursor  of  the  Physiocrats.  Horn,  VEconomie 
politique  avant  les  Physiocrates,  passim  -  (pvais  =  nature,  nparos  = 
power. 

2  Abbd  Beaudeau,  quoted  in  Lavergne,  Les  Economistes^  179. 


FINANCE.  235 

pended  on  the  idea  "that  in  general  every  man  knows  his 
own  interest  better  than  another  man  to  whom  that  inter- 
est is  entirely  indifferent;"  and  that  "hence,  when  the 
interest  of  individuals  is  exactly  the  same  as  the  general 
interest,  the  best  thing  to  do  is  to  leave  every  man  to  do 
as  he  likes."  1 

The  best  known  member  of  the  economic  school  in 
France  was  Anne  Robert  Jacques  Turgot,  born  in  Paris 
on  the  10th  of  May,  1727,  of  a  family  belonging  to  the 
higher  middle  class.  His  father  was  prevost  des  mar- 
chands,  or  chief  magistrate  of  the  city.  Young  Turgot 
was  at  first  educated  for  the  ecclesiastical  life,  and  indeed 
pursued  his  studies  in  that  direction  imtil  a  bishopric 
seemed  close  at  hand.  But  he  felt  no  vocation  to  enter 
the  priesthood.  Turgot  was  too  much  the  child  of  his 
century  to  be  content  to  put  his  great  powers  into  the 
harness  of  the  Eoman  Church;  he  was,  as  he  told  his 
friends  who  remonstrated  with  him  on  abandoninsf  his 
brilliant  prospects,  too  honest  a  man  to  wear  a  mask  all 
his  life. 

At  the  age  of  twenty-four,  Turgot  turned  finally  from 
the  study  of  divinity  to  that  of  law  and  administration. 
He  was  rapidly  promoted  to  the  place  of  a  maitre  des  re- 
quetes,  a  member  of  the  lowest  board  of  the  royal  council, 
and  nine  years  later  he  became  intendant  of  the  district 
of  Limoges.  It  was  the  poorest  in  France,  but  Turgot 
soon  became  so  much  interested  in  its  weKare  that  he 
refused  to  exchange  it  for  a  richer  one.  In  spite  of  years 
of  dearth  and  of  the  extraordinary  measures  of  relief 
which  they  made  necessary,  he  went  energetically  to  work 
at  all  manner  of  permanent  reforms.  He  effected  im- 
provements in  the  apportionment  and  levy  of  the  taille. 
He  abolished  the  onerous  corvee.  He  diminished  the  ter- 
ror of  compulsory  service  in  the  militia,  by  permitting 
the  engagement  of  substitutes.  He  encouraged  agricul- 
1  Turgot,  iii.  336  (Eloge  de  M.  de  Goumay). 


236     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

ture  by  distributing  seeds  and  offering  prizes  for  the 
destruction  of  wolves,  which  were  still  numerous  in  his 
district,  and  he  waged  a  successful  war  on  a  moth  that 
was  ravaging  the  wheat  crop.  He  assisted  in  the  intro- 
duction of  the  manufacture  of  pottery,  still  one  of  the 
leading  industries  of  Limoges.  His  reports  are  among 
the  most  valuable  material  in  existence  for  the  study  of 
the  condition  of  old  France. 

Soon  after  the  accession  of  Louis  XVL,  Turgot  was 
called  to  the  ministry,  first,  for  a  very  short  time,  as 
secretary  of  the  navy,  and  then  as  Controller  of  the 
Finances.  Two  courses  were  open  to  the  new  minister. 
Malesherbes,  his  close  adherent,  standing  in  high  official 
position,  urged  him  to  summon  the  Estates  General,  or 
at  least  the  Provincial  Estates,  and  rule  constitutionally. 
Such  action  would  have  been  a  great,  a  serious  innovation, 
but  it  was  not  on  this  ground  that  Turgot  opposed  it. 
Like  most  of  the  economists  of  his  day,  he  believed  at 
once  in  freedom  and  in  despotism.  "The  republican 
constitution  of  England,"  he  had  said,  "sets  obstacles  in 
the  way  of  the  reform  of  certain  abuses."  Turgot  had  a 
plan  for  the  benefit  of  mankind.  None  but  a  desj)ot 
could  carry  it  out  for  him.  France  and  the  world  were 
to  be  set  right ;  and  it  would  take  absolute  power  to  com- 
pel them  into  the  best  course. 

The  new  Controller  of  the  Finances  could  not  afford  to 
wait.  "You  accuse  me  of  too  great  haste,"  he  said  to  a 
friend,  "  and  you  forget  that  in  my  family  we  die  of  the 
gout  at  fifty."  But  this  haste,  combined  with  his  awk- 
ward and  haughty  manners,  proved  the  cause  of  his  ruin. 
The  courtiers,  whose  perquisites  were  in  danger,  were 
disgusted  at  his  simplicity  and  economy.  Although  he 
was  the  friend  of  absolute  government,  he  was  accused  of 
republican  austerity.  And  his  measures  were  not  more 
popular  than  his  manners.  The  harvest  of  1774  had  been 
bad,  and  famine  was  in  the  land.     Turgot  met  the  situation 


FINANCE.  237 

by  declaring  commerce  in  grain  free  throughout  the  king- 
dom. The  harvest  was  again  bad  in  1775,  and  riots  broke 
out,  for  the  common  people  had  it  firmly  in  their  minds 
that  the  price  of  bread  was  fixed  by  the  government.  Tur- 
got  put  down  disturbances  with  a  high  hand,  and  perse- 
vered in  his  measures.  He  abolished  the  corvee  on  roads 
and  public  works  throughout  France.  In  truth  it  would 
have  been  better  to  modify  and  regulate  it,  for  in  poor 
countries  many  men  had  rather  work  on  the  roads  than 
pay  for  them,  but  such  considerations  as  this  were  foreign 
to  his  mind.  He,  moreover,  abolished  the  trade-guilds 
{jurandes)^  which  possessed  the  monopoly  of  most  kinds  of 
manufactures  and  trades,  saying  that  God,  in  giving  man 
needs  and  making  labor  his  necessary  resource,  had  made 
the  right  to  work  the  property  of  every  man,  and  that 
this  property  is  the  most  sacred  and  inalienable  of  all.^ 
But  Turgot's  ideal  of  freedom  was  entirely  industrial  and 
commercial,  and  not  at  all  political  or  social.  He  forbade 
all  associations  or  assemblies  of  masters  or  workmen, 
holding  that  the  faculty  granted  to  artisans  of  the  same 
trade  to  meet  and  join  in  one  body  is  a  source  of  evil. 
Under  Turgot's  system,  the  individual  workman  would 
not  have  escaped  the  tyranny  of  the  masters'  guild  only  to 
fall  under  that  of  the  trades-union ;  but  one  of  the  most 
essential  privileges  of  a  freeman  would  have  been  denied 
him.  Individual  liberty  to  work,  and  political  liberty  to 
combine,  have  not  yet  been  made  perfectly  to  coincide. 

The  innovations  thus  introduced  were  great ;  the  inter- 
ests threatened  were  powerful.  The  Parliament  of  Paris 
rallied  to  the  defense  of  vested  rights.  It  refused  to 
register  the  edicts  issued  to  enforce  the  minister's  innova- 

^  Turgot,  viii.  330.  Yet  the  monopolies  in  certain  trades,  as  those 
of  apothecaries,  jewelers,  printers,  and  booksellers,  were  retained, 
probably  because  their  strict  regulation  and  supervision  was  considered 
necessary.  The  guilds  were  reestablished,  with  modifications,  on  the 
fall  of  Turgot.     Eiicyclopedie  mtthodique,  Commerce,  ii.  760,  790. 


238     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

tions.  The  king  held  a  bed  of  justice  and  forced  their 
registration ;  but  his  weak  nature  was  tiring  of  the  strug- 
gle. Turgot  was  unpopular  on  all  sides,  and  Louis  never 
supported  a  truly  unpopular  minister.  "Only  M.  Tur- 
got and  I  love  the  people,"  he  cried,  in  his  impotent 
despair ;  and  then  he  gave  way.  Malesherbes,  the  prin- 
cipal supporter  in  the  royal  council  of  the  Controller  Gen- 
eral of  the  Finances,  was  the  first  to  go.  Thereupon  Tur- 
got wrote  the  king  a  long  and  harsh  letter,  blaming  him 
for  Malesherbes's  resignation.  "Do  not  forget,  sir," 
said  he,  "that  it  was  weakness  which  put  the  head  of 
Charles  I.  on  the  block ;  it  was  weakness  which  formed 
the  League  under  Henry  IIL,  which  made  crowned 
slaves  of  Louis  XIII.  and  of  the  present  king  of  Portu- 
gal ;  it  was  weakness  which  caused  all  the  misfortunes  of 
the  late  reign."  Kings  to  whom  such  language  as  this 
can  be  used  are  not  strong  enough  to  bear  it.  Turgot  was 
dismissed  twelve  days  after  sending  the  letter.^ 

The  financial  situation  of  France  was  undoubtedly  seri- 
ous. The  cause  of  this  was  far  less  the  amount  of  the 
debt,  or  the  excess  of  expenditure  over  revenue,  than  the 
total  demoralization  of  the  public  service.  The  annual 
deficit  at  the  accession  of  Louis  XVI.  is  variously  stated 
at  from  twenty  to  forty  million  livres  a  year.^  Such  a 
deficiency  would  have  nothing  very  appalling  for  a  strong 
minister  of  finance,  supported  by  a  determined  sovereign, 
and  could  have  been  overcome  by  economy  alone.  The 
expenses  of  the  court  were  not  less  than  thirty  millions. 
Turgot  proposed  to  reduce  them  by  five  millions  immedi- 
ately and  by  nine  millions  more  in  the  course  of  a  few 
years.  Twenty-eight  millions  were  spent  in  pensions,  and 
it  requires  but  a  superficial  knowledge  of  the  state  of 
France  to  assure  us  that  many  of  these  were  bestowed 

1  May  12, 1776.  Lavergne,  les  Economistes,  219.  Turgot,  iii.  335  ; 
viii.  273,  330.     Bailly,  ii.  210. 

^  From  four  to  eight  million  dollars. 


FINANCE.  239 

without  sufficient  reason.  ^  Important  reductions  might 
have  been  made  in  the  expenditures  of  most  of  the  depart- 
ments without  impairing  their  efficiency.  But  to  have 
done  this  many  interests  would  have  had  to  be  disturbed, 
many  hardships  inflicted.  Amiable  persons,  living  with- 
out labor  at  the  i^ublic  cost,  would  have  been  deprived  of 
their  revenues.  Other  agreeable  and  influential  men  and 
women  would  have  had  to  live  without  pleasant  things 
which  they  had  been  brought  up  to  expect.  The  good- 
nature of  the  king  made  him  shrink  from  inflicting  pain. 
He  would  approve  of  the  best  plans  of  economy,  he  would 
promise  his  minister  of  finance  to  adhere  to  them,  he 
would  depart  from  them  secretly  at  the  solicitation  of  his 
wife  or  of  his  courtiers.  The  poor  man  wanted  "to  make 
his  people  happy,"  and  he  could  not  bear  to  see  those  of 
his  people  who  came  nearest  to  him  discontented.  The 
successor  of  Turgot  was  a  mere  courtier,  not  even  person- 
ally honest,  whose  career  was  fortunately  cut  short  by 
death  within  a  few  months  of  his  nomination. 

The  war  of  the  American  Revolution  was  drawing  near, 
and  old  Maurepas,  the  prime  minister,  felt  the  need  of  a 
competent  man  to  take  charge  of  the  finances.  A  name 
was  suggested  to  him,  —  that  of  Necker,  a  successful 
banker.  But  Necker  was  a  Protestant,  a  Swiss,  a  nobody. 
The  title  of  Controller  was  too  high  for  him,  so  a  new  post 
was  created,  and  he  was  made  Director -General  of  the 
Finances,  coming  into  office  in  October,  1776. 

It  has  been  the  fate  of  Necker  to  excite  strong  enthusi- 
asm and  violent  objurgation;  but  in  fact  he  was  little 
more  than  commonplace.  An  ambitious  man,  he  wanted 
to  make  a  reputation,  to  build  up  the  royal  credit,  to 
found  a  national  debt,  like  that  of  England.  Did  he 
really  believe  that  such  a  debt  would  pay  its  own  interest, 
without  additional  taxes,  or  did  he  rely  on  economy  of 

^  Stourm  sets  the  pensions  at  thirty-two  millions,  and  thinks  that 
the  improper  ones  did  not  exceed  six  or  seven  millions,  ii.  134. 


240     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

expenditure  and  good  administration,  not  only  to  balance 
the  ordinary  accounts,  but  to  cover  the  interest  of  the  war- 
loans  which  he  was  obliged  to  contract?  How  far  did  his 
cheerful  manifestoes  deceive  himself?  What  might  he 
not  really  have  accomplished  if  the  royal  support  had  been 
anything  more  solid  than  a  shifting  quicksand?  These 
questions  cannot  be  answered  satisfactorily.  Neither 
Necker,  nor  anybody  else,  knew  exactly  what  the  govern- 
ment owed,  or  what  it  borrowed.  The  loans  contracted 
by  Necker  himself  are  believed  to  have  amounted  to  five 
hundred  and  thirty  million  livres.  Of  this  sum  it  is 
thought  that  about  two  hundred  millions  were  employed 
in  covering  the  annual  deficit  for  five  years,  and  that  three 
hundred  and  thirty  millions  were  spent  for  the  extraordi- 
nary demands  of  the  war.  The  money  was  raised  chiefly 
by  state  lotteries  and  by  the  sale  of  life  annuities,  although 
many  other  means  also  were  employed. 

The  royal  lottery  had  been  a  favorite  device  earlier  in 
the  century.  As  practiced  by  Necker  and  some  of  his 
predecessors  it  combined  the  features  of  gambling  and 
of  investment.  Every  ticket,  in  addition  to  its  chance  of 
drawing  a  prize,  was  in  itself  a  pecuniary  obligation  of 
the  government,  either  carrying  perpetual  interest  at  four 
per  cent. ,  or  to  be  repaid  at  its  full  price  in  seven  or  nine 
years  without  interest.  The  prizes  were  sums  of  money 
or  annuities.  Thus  the  ticket-holder  did  not  lose  his 
whole  stake,  and  ran  the  chance  of  winning  a  fortune. 
But  the  operation  was  not  brilliant  for  the  government. 

Nor  was  the  sale  of  annuities  more  judiciously  managed. 
Here,  as  in  the  lotteries,  Necker  copied  old  models,  with- 
out making  any  improvements  of  importance.  No  account 
was  taken  of  the  age  of  the  annuitants,  but  incomes  were 
sold  at  a  fixed  rate  of  ten  per  cent,  of  the  capital  deposited 
for  one  life,  nine  per  cent,  for  two  lives,  eight  and  a  half 
for  three,  e'mht  for  four.  The  bankers  and  financiers  of 
the  day  were  shrewd  enough  to  profit  by  this  arrangement. 


FINANCE.  241 

They  bought  up  the  obligations,  and  named  healthy  chil- 
dren as  the  annuitants.  The  chance  of  life  of  these 
selected  persons  was  more  than  fifty  years,  and  as  the 
children  were  usually  chosen  at  about  the  age  of  seven, 
the  treasury  would  be  called  on  to  pay  its  annuities  for  an 
average  term  of  between  forty  and  forty -five  years.  As 
the  current  rate  of  interest  on  good  security  was  about 
six  per  cent,  the  operation  was  not  a  very  promising  one 
for  the  state. 

In  spite  of  all  these  blunders  Necker  was  liked  by  the 
nation.  He  recognized  the  need  of  economy  and  honestly 
tried  to  reduce  expenses.  He  succeeded  in  cutting  off  a 
little  of  the  extravagance  of  the  court  and  in  simplifying 
the  collection  of  the  revenue.  He  tried  to  establish  pro- 
vincial assemblies  and  to  equalize  the  incidence  of  the 
salt-tax.  And  above  all,  in  order  to  sustain  the  royal 
credit,  he  took  the  country  into  his  confidence  to  some 
extent,  and  prophesied  pleasant  things.  But  he  did  not 
stop  there.  The  national  accounts  had  long  been  con- 
sidered a  government  secret;  Necker  resolved  to  publish 
them  to  the  world.  His  famous  "Compte  rendu  au  roi " 
appeared  in  February,  1781.  The  portrait  of  the  author, 
excellently  engraved  on  copper,  stares  complacently  from 
the  frontispiece,  above  an  allegorical  picture,  where  we 
can  make  out  Justice  and  Abundance,  while  Avarice  ap- 
pears to  bring  her  treasures,  and  a  lady  in  high,  powdered 
hair,  and  no  visible  clothing,  gazes  astonished  from  the 
background.  The  contents  of  the  report  are  not  such  as 
we  are  in  the  habit  of  expecting  in  financial  documents, 
but  are  rhetorical  and  self-complacent.  The  ordinary  rev- 
enues of  the  country  are  said  to  exceed  the  expenditures 
by  ten  million  livres.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  no  such  sur- 
plus existed,  but  Necker  was  an  o2)timist  by  temperament, 
and  was  moreover  anxious  to  bolster  credit.  The  nation 
was  delighted,  but  Maure])as  and  the  court  were  shocked. 
The  cupidity  of  the  courtiers  was  painted  in  the  account 


242     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

in  glowing  language.  Such  a  publication  was  dangerous 
in  itself,  and  the  economical  measures  already  taken,  with 
those  announced  as  to  follow,  threatened  many  interests. 
Even  the  old  prime  minister  trembled  for  his  personal 
power.  Necker  had  obtained  the  removal  from  office  of 
one  of  the  adherents  of  Maurepas,  while  the  latter  was 
kept  in  Paris  by  the  gout.  So  the  usual  machinery  of 
detraction  was  put  in  motion.  Letters,  pamphlets,  and 
epigrams  flew  about.  While  the  larger  part  of  the  public 
was  singing  Necker 's  praises,  the  smaller  and  more  in- 
fluential inner  circle  was  conspiring  against  him.  He 
might  yet  have  prevailed  but  for  an  act  of  imprudence. 
Although  the  most  conspicuous  and  popular  man  in  the 
kingdom,  he  had  hitherto  been  excluded  from  the  Coun- 
cil of  State.  He  now  asked  to  be  admitted  to  it.  Louis 
XVI.,  whose  Catholicism  was  his  strongest  conviction, 
replied  that  Necker,  as  a  Protestant,  was  inadmissible  by 
law.  Thereupon  the  latter  offered  to  resign  his  place  as 
Director  of  the  Finances,  and  the  king,  by  the  advice  of 
Maurepas,  accepted  his  resignation.^ 

From  this  time  all  real  chance  of  the  extrication  of 
Louis  XYI.  from  his  financial  difficulties,  without  a  rad- 
ical change  of  government,  disappeared  forever.  The 
controllers  that  succeeded  Necker  only  plunged  deeper 
and  deeper  into  debt  and  deficit.  It  is  needless  to  follow 
them  in  their  flounder ings.  A  long  experience  of  the 
vacillation  of  the  government  both  as  to  persons  and  as 
to  systems  had  discouraged  the  hopes  of  conscientious 
patriotism,  and  strengthened  the  opposition  to  reform  of 
all  those  who  were  interested  in  abuses.  From  the  well- 
meaning  king,  if  left  to  his  own  ways,  nothing  more  could 
be  hoped.  Pecuniary  embarrassment,  with  Louis,  as 
with  many  less  important  people,  was  quite  as  much  a 
symptom  of  weakness  as  a  result  of  unmerited  misfortune. 
^  Gomel,  passim. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 


We  have  seen  that  the  church  had  an  irreconcilable 
enemy  in  Voltaire ;  that  the  government  of  France  had 
found  a  critic  of  weight  and  importance  in  Montesquieu ; 
that  the  Economists  had  attacked  the  financial  organiza- 
tion of  the  country.  But  the  assaults  of  the  Philosophic 
school  were  not  leveled  at  the  religious  and  civil  adminis- 
tration alone.  The  very  foundations  of  French  thought, 
slowly  laid  through  previous  ages,  were  made  in  the  reign 
of  Louis  XV.  the  subject  of  examination,  and  by  a  very 
dogmatic  set  of  thinkers  were  pronounced  to  be  valueless. 
Nor  were  men  left  at  a  loss  for  something  to  put  in  the 
place  of  what  was  thus  destroyed.  The  teachings  of 
Locke,  explained  and  amplified  by  Condillac  and  many 
others,  obtained  an  authority  which  was  but  feebly  dis- 
puted. The  laws  against  free  speech  and  free  printing, 
intended  for  the  defense  of  the  old  doctrines,  deterred  no 
one  from  expressing  radical  opinions.  Only  persons  of 
conservative  and  law-abiding  temperament,  the  natural 
defenders  of  things  existing,  were  restrained  by  legal  and 
ecclesiastical  terrors.  The  champions  of  the  old  modes  of 
thousrht  stood  like  mediaeval  men  at  arms  before  a  dis- 
charge  of  artillery,  prevented  from  rushing  on  the  guns  of 
the  enemy  by  the  weight  of  the  armor  that  protected  them 
no  longer.  The  new  philosophy,  stimulated  and  hardly 
impeded  by  feeble  attempts  at  persecution,  was  therefore 
able  to  overrun  the  intellectual  life  of  the  nation,  until  it 
found  its  most  formidable  opponent  in  one  who  was  half 
its  ally,  and  who  had  sprung  from  its  midst,  the  mighty 
heretic,  Rousseau. 


244  THE   EVE   OF   THE   FRENCH   REVOLUTION. 

The  most  voluminous  work  of  the  Philosophers  is  the 
" Encyclopaedia,"  a  book  of  great  importance  in  the  his- 
tory of  the  human  mind.  The  conception  of  its  originators 
was  not  a  new  one.  The  attempt  to  bring  human  know- 
ledge into  a  system,  and  to  set  it  forth  in  a  series  of  folio 
volumes,  had  been  made  before.  The  endeavor  is  one 
which  can  never  meet  with  complete  success,  yet  which 
should  sometimes  be  made  in  a  philosophic  spirit.  The 
universe  is  too  vast  and  too  varied  to  be  successfully  clas- 
sified and  described  by  one  man,  or  under  the  supervision 
of  one  editor.  But  the  attempt  may  bring  to  light  some 
relation  of  things  hitherto  unnoticed,  and  the  task  is  one 
of  practical  utility. 

The  great  French  "Encyclopaedia  "  may  claim  two  im- 
mediate progenitors.  The  first  is  found  in  the  works  of 
Lord  Bacon,  where  there  is  a  "Description  of  a  Natural 
and  Experimental  History,  such  as  may  serve  for  the 
foundation  of  a  true  philosophy,"  with  a  "Catalogue  of 
particular  histories  by  titles."  The  second  is  Chambers's 
Cyclopaedia,  first  published  in  1727,  a  translation  of  which 
Diderot  was  engaged  to  edit  by  the  publisher  Le  Breton. 
Diderot,  who  freely  acknowledges  his  obligation  to  Bacon, 
makes  light  of  that  to  Chambers,  saying  in  his  prospectus 
that  the  latter  owed  much  to  French  sources,  that  his  work 
is  not  the  basis  of  the  one  proposed,  that  many  of  the  ar- 
ticles have  been  rewritten,  and  almost  all  the  others  cor- 
rected and  altered.  There  is  no  doubt  that  the  whole  plan 
of  the  "Encyclopaedia"  was  much  enlarged  by  Denis 
Diderot  himself.^ 

This  eminent  man  was  born  at  Langres  in  1713,  the 
son  of  a  worthy  cutler.     He  was  educated  by  the  Jesuits, 

1  Bacon,  iv.  251,  265.  Morley,  Diderot,  i.,  116.  Diderot,  (Euvres, 
xiii.  6,  8.  "  If  we  come  out  successfully  we  shall  be  principally  in- 
debted to  Chancellor  Bacon,  who  laid  out  the  plan  of  a  universal  dic- 
tionary of  sciences  and  arts  at  a  time  when  there  were,  so  to  speak,  neither 
tciences  nor  arts." 


THE   ENCYCLOPEDIA.  245 

and  on  his  refusal  to  enter  either  of  the  learned  profes- 
sions of  law  or  medicine,  was  set  adrift  by  his  father,  — 
who  hoped  that  a  little  hardship  would  bring  him  to  rea- 
son, —  and  found  himself  in  Paris  with  no  resource  but 
the  precarious  one  of  letters.  Diderot  lived  from  hand  to 
mouth  for  a  time,  sleeping  sometimes  in  a  garret  of  his 
own,  sometimes  on  the  floor  of  a  friend's  room.  Once  he 
got  a  place  of  tutor  to  the  children  of  a  financier,  but  could 
not  bear  the  life  of  confinement,  and  soon  threw  up  his 
appointment  and  returned  to  freedom.  When  any  friend 
of  his  father  turned  up  on  a  visit  to  the  town,  he  would 
borrow,  and  the  old  cutler  at  Langres  would  grumble  and 
repay.  Gradually  the  young  author  rose  above  want. 
He  became  one  of  the  first  literary  men  of  his  day  and  one 
of  the  most  brilliant  talkers,  rich  in  ideas,  overflowing  in 
language,  subtle  without  obscurity,  suggestive,  and  satisfy- 
ing; yet  always  retaining  a  certain  shyness,  and  "able  to 
say  anything,  but  good-morning."  Yet  he  was  soon  car- 
ried away  by  the  excitement  of  conversation  and  of  discus- 
sion. He  had  a  trick  of  tapping  his  interlocutor  on  the 
knee,  by  way  of  giving  point  to  his  remarks,  and  the  Em- 
press Catharine  II.  of  Russia  complained  that  he  mauled 
her  black  and  blue  by  the  use  of  this  familiar  gesture,  so 
that  she  had  to  put  a  table  between  herself  and  him  for  pro- 
tection. Diderot  was  fond  of  the  young,  and  especially  of 
struggling  authors.  To  them  his  purse  and  his  literary 
assistance  were  freely  given.  He  was  delighted  when  a 
writer  came  to  consult  him  on  his  work.  If  the  subject 
were  interesting  he  would  recognize  its  capabilities  at  a 
glance.  As  the  author  read,  Diderot's  imagination  would 
fill  in  all  deficiencies,  construct  new  scenes  in  the  tragedy, 
new  incidents,  new  characters  in  the  tale.  To  him  all 
these  beauties  would  seem  to  belong  to  the  work  itself, 
and  his  friends  would  be  astonished,  after  hearing  him 
praise  some  new  book,  to  find  in  it  but  few  of  the  good 
things  which  he  had  quoted  from  it. 


246     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

Diderot's  good  nature  was  boundless.  One  morning  a 
young  man,  quite  unknown  to  him,  came  with  a  manu- 
script, and  begged  him  to  read  and  correct  it.  He  pre- 
pared to  comply  with  the  request  on  the  spot.  The  paper, 
when  opened,  turned  out  to  be  a  satire  on  himself  and 
his  writings. 

"Sir,"  said  Diderot  to  the  young  man,  "I  do  not  know 
you;  I  can  never  have  offended  you.  Will  you  tell  me 
the  motive  which  has  impelled  you  to  make  me  read  a 
libel  for  the  first  time  in  my  life  ?  I  generally  throw  such 
things  into  the  waste-paper  basket." 

"I  am  starving.  I  hoped  that  you  would  give  me  a 
few  crowns  not  to  print  it." 

Instead  of  flying  into  a  passion,  Diderot  simply  re- 
marked: "You  would  not  be  the  first  author  that  ever  was 
bought  off;  but  you  can  do  better  with  this  stuff.  The 
brother  of  the  Duke  of  Orleans  is  in  retreat  at  Saint  Gene- 
vieve. He  is  religious ;  he  hates  me.  Dedicate  your  satire 
to  him ;  have  it  bound  with  his  arms  on  the  cover ;  carry  it 
to  him  yourself  some  fine  morning,  and  he  will  help  you." 

"But  I  don't  know  the  prince;  and  I  don't  see  how  I 
can  write  the  dedicatory  epistle." 

"Sit  down;  I  '11  do  it  for  you." 

And  Diderot  writes  the  dedication,  and  gives  it  to  the 
young  man,  who  carries  the  libel  to  the  prince,  receives  a 
present  of  twenty -five  louis,  and  comes  back  after  a  few 
days  to  thank  Diderot,  who  advises  him  to  find  a  more 
decent  means  of  living. 

The  people  whom  the  great  writer  helped  were  not  al- 
ways so  polite.  One  day  he  was  seeing  to  the  door  a 
young  man  who  had  deceived  him,  and  to  whom,  after 
discovering  it,  he  had  given  both  assistance  and  advice. 

"Monsieur  Diderot,"  said  the  swindler,  "do  you  know 
natural  history?" 

"  A  little ;  I  can  distinguish  an  aloe  from  a  head  of  let- 
tuce, and  a  pigeon  from  a  humming-bird." 


THE   ENCYCLOPEDIA.  247 

"Do  you  know  the  fonnica  leof^ 

"No." 

"  It  is  a  very  clever  little  insect.  It  digs  a  hole  in  the 
ground,  shaped  like  a  funnel.  It  covers  the  surface  with 
fine,  light  sand.  It  attracts  silly  insects  and  gets  them  to 
tumble  in.  It  seizes  them,  sucks  them  dry,  and  then 
says:  'Monsieur  Diderot,  I  have  the  honor  to  wish  you 
good-morning.'  "  Whereupon  the  young  man  ran  down- 
stairs, leaving  the  philosopher  in  fits  of  laughter.^ 

As  a  writer,  the  great  fault  of  Diderot  is  one  not  com- 
mon in  France.  He  is  verbose.  As  we  read  his  produc- 
tions, even  the  cleverest,  we  feel  that  the  same  thing  could 
have  been  better  said  in  fewer  words.  There  is  also  a 
lack  of  arrangement.  Diderot  would  never  take  time  to 
plan  his  books  before  writing  them.  But  these  faults, 
although  probably  fatal  to  the  permanent  fame  of  an 
author,  are  less  injurious  to  his  immediate  success  than 
might  be  expected.  A  large  part  of  the  public  does  not 
dislike  a  copious  admixture  of  water  in  its  intellectual 
drink.  And  Diderot  reconciles  the  reader  to  his  exces- 
sive flow  of  words  by  the  effervescence  of  his  enthusiasm. 
It  is  because  his  mind  is  overfull  of  his  subject  that  the 
sentences  burst  forth  so  copiously. 

The  first  writing  of  Diderot  that  need  engage  our  atten- 
tion is  his  "Letter  on  the  Blind,"  published  in  1749. 
This  letter  deals  with  the  question,  how  far  congenital 
deprivation  of  one  of  the  senses,  and  especially  blind- 
ness, would  modify  the  conceptions  of  the  person  affected ; 
how  far  the  ideas  of  one  born  blind  would  differ  from  the 
ideas  of  those  who  can  see.  The  bearing  of  this  question 
on  Locke's  theory  that  all  our  ideas  are  derived  from  sen- 
sation and  reflection  is  obvious.     Diderot,  in  a  manner 

1  Morley,  Diderot  and  the  Encyclopaedists.  Scherer,  Diderot,  passim. 
Morrellet,  i.  29.  Marinontel,  ii.  313.  Mc'moire  sur  Diderot,  par  Mme. 
de  Vandeul,  sa  fille  (a  charming  sketch  only  64  pages  long)  in  Dide- 
rot, Me'moireSf  Corresp.j  etc.,  vol.  i. 


248     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

quite  characteristic  of  him,  took  pains  to  examine  the 
cases  of  persons  who  had  actually  been  blind  and  had  re- 
covered their  sight,  and  where  these  failed  him,  supplied 
their  places  by  inventions  of  his  own.^ 

Diderot's  principal  witness  is  Nicholas  Saunderson,  a 
blind  man  with  a  talent  for  mathematics,  who  between 
1711  and  1739  was  a  professor  at  the  University  of  Cam- 
bridge. Diderot  quotes  at  some  length  the  atheistic  opin- 
ions of  Saunderson,  giving  as  his  authority  the  Life  of  the 
latter  by  "Dr.  Inchlif."  No  such  book  ever  existed,  and 
the  opinions  are  the  product  of  Diderot's  own  reasoning. 
When  an  author  treats  us  in  this  way  our  confidence  in 
his  facts  is  hopelessly  lost.  His  reasons,  however,  remain, 
and  the  most  striking  of  these,  in  the  "Letter  on  the 
Blind,"  is  the  answer  given  to  one  who  attempts  to  prove 
the  existence  of  God  by  pointing  out  the  order  found  in 
nature,  whence  an  intelligent  Creator  is  presumed.  In 
answer  to  this,  the  dying  Saunderson  is  made  to  say: 
"Let  me  believe  .  .  .  that  if  we  were  to  go  back  to  the 
birth  of  things  and  of  times,  and  if  we  should  feel  matter 
move  and  chaos  arrange  itself,  we  should  meet  a  multi- 
tude of  shapeless  beings,  instead  of  a  few  beings  tliat  were 
well  organized.  ...  I  can  maintain  that  these  had  no 
stomach,  and  those  no  intestines ;  that  some,  to  which  their 
stomach,  palate,  and  teeth  seemed  to  promise  duration, 
have  ceased  to  exist  from  some  vice  of  the  heart  or  the 
lungs;  that  the  abortions  were  successively  destroyed; 
that  all  the  faulty  combinations  of  matter  have  disap- 
peared, and  that  only  those  have  survived  whose  mechan- 
ism implied  no  important  contradiction,  and  which  could 

1  Condorcet  says  of  Diderot,  "  faisant  toujours  aimer  la  vdrit^, 
meme  lorsqu'entraind  par  son  imagination  il  avait  le  malheur  de  la 
m^connaitre.  D'Alembert,  CEuvres,  i.  79  (Eloge  par  Condorcet). 
There  is  a  great  deal  in  this  remark.  Unless  we  can  enter  into  the 
state  of  mind  of  men  who  tell  great  lies  from  a  genuine  love  of  ab- 
stract truth,  we  shall  never  understand  the  French  Philosophers  of 
the  18th  century. 


THE   ENCYCLOPEDIA.  249 

live  by  themselves  and  perpetuate  their  species."^  The 
step  from  the  idea  here  conveyed  to  that  of  the  struggle 
for  existence  and  of  the  survival  of  the  most  fit  is  not  a 
very  long  one. 

For  his  "Letter  on  the  Blind,"  Diderot  was  imprisoned 
at  Vincennes.  The  real  cause  of  this  punishment  is  said 
to  have  been  a  slight  allusion  in  the  "Letter"  to  the  mis- 
tress of  a  minister  of  state.  But  this  may  not  have  been 
the  only  cause.  There  occurred  about  this  time  one  of 
those  temporary  seasons  of  severity  which  are  necessary 
under  all  governments  to  meet  occasional  outbursts  of 
crime,  but  to  which  weak  and  corrupt  governments  are 
liable  with  capricious  frequency.  Diderot  sturdily  denied 
the  authorship  of  the  "Letter,"  lying  as  thoroughly  as  he 
had  done  in  that  piece  of  writing  itself,  when  he  invented 
the  name  of  Inchlif  and  forged  the  ideas  of  Saunderson. 
This  time  there  was  more  excuse  for  his  untruth;  for 
the  disclosure  of  his  printer's  name  might  have  sent  that 
unfortunate  man  to  prison  or  to  the  galleys.  The  impris- 
onment of  Diderot  himself,  at  first  severe,  was  soon  light- 
ened at  the  instance  of  Voltaire's  mistress,  Madame  du 
Chatelet.  Diderot  was  allowed  to  see  his  friends,  and 
even  to  wander  about  the  park  of  Vincennes  on  parole. 
After  three  months  of  captivity  he  was  released  by  the 
influence  of  the  booksellers  interested  in  the  "Encyclo- 
paedia."'^ 

The  first  volume  of  that  great  work  was  in  preparation. 
Diderot,  whose  untiring  energy  was  unequal  to  the  task  of 
editing  the  whole,  and  who  was,  moreover,  insufficiently 
trained  for  the  work  in  some  branches,  and  notably  in 
mathematics,  gathered  about  him  a  band  of  workers  which 
increased  as  time  went  on,  until  it  included  a  great  number 
of  remarkable  men.  First  in  importance  to  the  enter- 
prise, acting  with  Diderot  on  equal  terms,  was  D'Alem- 
bert,  an  almost  typical  example  of  the  gentle  scholar,  who 
1  Diderot,  i.  328.  «  Morley,  Diderot,  i.  105. 


250  THE   EVE   OF   THE    FKENCH   REVOLUTION. 

refused  one  brilliant  position  after  another  to  devote  him- 
self to  mathematics  and  to  literature.  Next,  perhaps, 
should  be  mentioned  the  Chevalier  de  Jaucourt,  a  man 
of  encyclopsedio  learning,  who  helped  in  the  preparation 
of  the  book  with  patient  enthusiasm,  reading,  dictating, 
and  working  with  three  or  four  secretaries  for  thirteen  or 
fourteen  hours  a  day.  Montesquieu,  whose  end  was  ap- 
proaching, left  behind  him  an  unfinished  article  on  Taste. 
Voltaire  not  only  sent  in  contributions  of  his  own,  but 
constantly  gave  encouragement  and  advice,  as  became  the 
recognized  head  of  the  Philosophic  school.  Rousseau, 
whose  literary  reputation  had  recently  been  made  by  his 
"Discourses,"  contributed  articles  on  music  for  a  time; 
but  subsequently  chose  to  quarrel  with  the  Encyclopaedists, 
whose  minds  worked  very  differently  from  his.  Turgot 
wrote  several  papers  on  economic  subjects,  and  in  the 
latter  part  of  the  work,  Haller,  the  physiologist,  and  Con- 
dorcet  were  engaged. 

The  publication  of  the  "Encyclopaedia"  lasted  many 
years,  and  met  with  many  vicissitudes.  The  first  volume 
appeared  in  1751,  the  second  in  January,  1752.  The 
book  immediately  excited  the  antagonism  of  the  church 
and  of  conservative  Frenchmen  generally.  On  the  12th 
of  February,  1752,  the  two  volumes  were  suppressed  by 
an  edict  of  the  Council,  as  containing  maxims  contrary  to 
royal  authority  and  to  religion.  The  edict  forbade  their 
being  reprinted  and  their  being  delivered  to  such  subscrib- 
ers as  had  not  already  received  their  copies.  The  contin- 
uation of  the  work,  however,  was  not  forbidden.  It  was 
believed  at  the  time  that  the  administration  took  this  step 
in  order  to  silence  the  Jesuits,  to  please  the  Archbishop 
of  Paris,  and  perhaps  to  be  beforehand  with  the  Parlia- 
ment, which  might  have  taken  severer  measures.  It  was 
also  intimated  that  certain  booksellers,  jealous  of  the  suc- 
cess of  the  undertaking,  were  exerting  influence  on  the 
authorities.     All  these  enemies  of  the  "Encyclopaedia" 


THE   ENCYCLOPEDIA.  251 

were  not  content  with  their  first  triumph.  A  few  days 
after  the  appearance  of  the  edict,  the  manuscripts  and 
plates  were  seized  by  the  police.  They  were  restored  to 
the  editors  three  months  later.  The  work  was  one  in  the 
performance  of  which  many  Frenchmen  took  pride.  It  is 
said  that  the  Jesuits  had  tried  to  continue  it,  but  had 
failed  even  to  decipher  the  papers  that  had  been  taken 
from  Diderot.  The  attack  of  the  archbishop,  who  had 
fulminated  against  the  great  book  in  an  episcopal  charge, 
had  served  the  purpose  of  an  advertisement;  such  was  the 
wisdom  and  consistency  of  the  rej)ressive  police  of  that 
age. 

From  1753  to  1757  the  publication  went  on  without 
interruption,  one  volume  appearing  every  year.  Seven 
volumes  had  now  been  published,  bringing  the  work  to 
the  end  of  the  letter  G.  The  subscription  list,  originally 
consisting  of  less  than  two  thousand  names,  had  nearly 
doubled.  But  the  forces  of  conservatism  rallied.  In 
1758  appeared  Helvetius's  book  "De  I'Esjirit,"  of  which 
an  account  will  be  given  in  the  next  chapter,  and  which 
shocked  the  feelings  of  many  persons,  even  of  the  Philo- 
sophic school.  Few  things  could,  indeed,  have  made  the 
Philosophers  more  unpopular  than  the  publication  by  one 
of  their  own  party  of  a  very  readable  book,  in  which  the 
attempt  was  made  to  push  their  favorite  ideas  to  their  last 
conclusions.  This  is  a  process  which  few  abstract  theories 
can  bear,  for  the  limitations  of  any  statement  are  in  fact 
essential  parts  of  it.  But  human  laziness  so  loves  formu- 
las, so  hates  distinctions,  that  extreme  and  unmodified 
expressions  are  seized  with  avidity  by  injudicious  friends 
and  exulting  foes. 

The  feeling  of  indignation  awakened  in  the  public  by 
the  doctrines  of  Helvetius  gave  opportunity  to  the  oppo- 
nents of  the  "Encyclopaedia."  That  work  was  denounced 
to  the  Parliament  of  Paris,  together  with  the  book  "De 
r Esprit."     The  learned  court  promptly  condemned  the 


252     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

latter  to  the  flames.  The  great  compilation,  on  the  other 
hand,  of  which  the  volume  of  Helvetius  was  said  to  be  a 
mere  abridgment,  was  submitted  to  nine  commissioners 
for  examination,  and  further  publication  was  suspended 
until  they  should  report.  While  proceedings  before  the 
Parliament  were  still  pending,  the  Council  of  State  inter- 
vened, and  the  "Encyclopaedia"  was  arbitrarily  inter- 
dicted, its  privilege  taken  away,  the  sale  of  the  volumes 
already  printed,  and  the  printing  of  any  more,  alike  for- 
bidden. 

It  is  characteristic  of  the  condition  of  things  existing 
under  the  weak  and  vacillating  government  of  Louis  XV. 
that  the  interdict  pronounced  against  the  "Encyclopaedia'* 
did  not  stop  its  printing.  The  editor  and  the  publishers 
determined  to  prepare  in  private  the  ten  volumes  that 
were  still  unmade,  and  to  launch  them  on  the  world  at  one 
time.  To  this  work  Diderot  turned  with  boundless 
energy.  D'Alembert,  however,  was  discouraged,  and 
retired  from  the  undertaking.  For  six  years  Diderot 
labored  on,  never  safe  from  interference  on  the  part  of 
the  government,  and  managing  a  great  enterprise,  with  its 
staff  of  contributors  and  its  scores  of  workmen,  while  con- 
stantly liable  to  arrest  and  imprisonment.  Diderot 
worked  indef atigably  also  with  his  pen ;  writing  articles 
on  all  sorts  of  subjects, — philosophy,  arts,  trades,  and 
manufactures.  To  learn  how  things  were  made  he  visited 
workshops  and  handled  tools,  baffled  at  times  by  the  jeal- 
ousy and  distrust  of  the  workmen,  who  were  afraid  of  his 
disclosing  their  secret  processes,  or  of  his  giving  informa- 
tion to  the  tax-gatherer. 

The  sharpest  blow  was  yet  to  fall.  The  "Encyclo- 
paedia "  was  issued  by  an  association  of  publishers  which 
paid  Diderot  a  moderate  salary  for  his  services.  Of  these 
publishers  one,  named  Le  Breton,  was  the  chief.  He 
is  said  to  have  been  a  dull  man,  incapable  of  understand- 
ing any  work  of  literature.     It  was  his  maxim  that  liter- 


THE   ENCYCLOPiEDIA.  253 

ary  men  labor  for  glory,  and  publishers  for  pay,  and  con- 
sequently he  divided  the  income  of  the  "  Encyclopsedia " 
into  two  parts,  giving  to  Diderot  the  glory,  the  danger, 
and  the  persecution,  and  reserving  the  money  for  himself 
and  his  partners.  From  his  position  in  Paris  he  felt  sure 
of  being  able  to  foresee  any  new  order  launched  against 
the  "Encyclopsedia"  while  the  printing  was  in  progi'ess, 
and  of  providing  against  it.  But  the  time  of  publication 
was  likely  to  be  marked  by  a  new  storm.  Under  these 
circumstances  Le  Breton  resorted  to  a  trick.  After  Dide- 
rot had  read  the  last  proof  of  every  sheet,  the  publisher 
and  his  foreman  secretly  took  it  in  hand,  erased  and  cut 
out  all  that  seemed  rash  or  calculated  to  excite  the  anger 
of  religious  or  conservative  people,  and  thus  reduced  many 
of  the  principal  articles  to  fragments.  Then,  to  make 
the  wrong  irremediable,  they  burned  the  manuscripts, 
and  quietly  proceeded  with  the  printing.  This  process 
would  seem  to  have  been  continued  for  more  than  a  year. 
One  day  in  1764,  when  the  time  of  publication  was  draw- 
ing near,  Diderot,  having  occasion  to  consult  an  article 
under  the  letter  S,  found  it  badly  mutilated.  Puzzled  at 
first,  he  presently  recognized  the  nature  of  the  trick  that 
had  been  played  him.  He  turned  to  various  parts  of  the 
book,  to  his  own  articles  and  to  those  of  other  writers,  and 
found  in  many  places  the  marks  of  the  outrage.  Diderot 
was  in  despair.  His  first  thought  was  to  throw  up  the 
undertaking  and  to  announce  the  fraud  to  the  public. 
The  injury  that  would  have  been  done  to  Le  Breton's  in- 
nocent partners,  the  danger  of  publishing  the  fact  that 
the  "Encyclopaedia"  was  still  in  process  of  printing,  — a 
fact  of  which  the  officers  of  the  government  had  only  per- 
sonal and  not  official  knowled2:e,  —  determined  him  to  jro 
on  with  the  publication.  It  may  be  that  Le  Breton's 
changes  had  been  less  extensive  than  Diderot,  in  his  first 
excitement  on  making  the  discover^^  had  been  led  to  be- 
lieve.    In  examining  the  "Encyclopaedia"  no  alteration 


254     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

of  tone  is  observable  between  the  first  seven  and  the  sub- 
sequent vokimes ;  and  Grimm,  to  whom  we  owe  the  story, 
acknowledges  that  none  of  the  authors  engaged  with 
Diderot  in  the  work  complained  or  even  noticed  that 
their  articles  had  been  altered. 

In  1765  the  ten  volumes  which  completed  the  alphabet 
(making  seventeen  of  this  part  of  the  work)  were  deliv- 
ered to  the  subscribers.  As  a  precautionary  measure, 
those  for  foreign  countries  were  sent  out  first,  then  those 
for  the  provinces,  and  lastly  those  for  Paris.  The  eleven 
volumes  of  plates  were  not  published  until  1772.  A  sup- 
plement of  four  volumes  of  text  and  one  of  plates  appeared 
in  1776  and  1777,  and  three  years  later  a  table  of  con- 
tents in  two  volumes.^ 

What  was  the  great  book  whose  history  was  so  full  of 
vicissitudes?  Why  did  the  French  government,  the 
church,  and  the  literary  world  so  excite  themselves  about 
a   dictionary?     The    " Encj^clopsedia "   had  in   fact   two 

1  Several  volumes  of  the  original  edition  have  the  imprint  of  Neuf- 
chatel,  and  the  supplement  has  that  of  Amsterdam,  although  all  were 
actually  printed  in  Paris.  The  Encydopczdia  was  reprinted  as  a 
whole  at  Geneva  and  at  Lausanne.  Editions  also  appeared  at  Leg- 
horn and  at  Lucca  ;  besides  volumes  of  selections  and  abbreviations. 
Morley,  Diderot,  i.  169.  For  the  Encydopoedia,  see  Morley,  Diderot, 
passim.  Scherer,  Diderot;  the  correspondence  of  D'Alembert  and 
Voltaire  in  the  works  of  the  latter.  Diderot,  Memoires,  i.  431  (Nov. 
10,  1760).  Grimm,  vii.  44,  and  especially  ix.  203-217,  an  excellent 
article.  Barbier,  v.  159,  169  ;  vii.  125,  138, 141  ;  also  in  the  work 
itself  the  word  Encydopedie  in  vol.  v.  Mr.  Morley  thinks  that  the 
article  Geneve,  in  vol.  vii.  of  the  Encydopcedia,  especially  excited  the 
church  and  the  Parliament  to  desire  its  suppression.  The  same  arti- 
cle drew  from  Rousseau  his  letter  to  D'Alembert  on  the  theatre  at 
Geneva,  which  marks  the  separation  between  Rousseau  and  the  Phi- 
losophers. But  in  the  Discours  preliminaire  D'Alembert  had  attacked 
Rousseau's  First  Discourse.  For  the  excitement  caused  at  Geneva  by 
the  article,  see  Voltaire,  Ivii.  438  (Voltaire  to  D'Alembert,  Jan.  8, 
1758).  It  is  perhaps  superfluous  to  remark  that  Grimm's  account 
of  the  character  and  ideas  of  Le  Breton,  which  has  been  followed 
above,  is  probably  not  unbiased. 


THE   ENCYCLOPEDIA.  255 

functions ;  it  was  a  repository  of  information  and  a  polem- 
ical writing.  Condorcet  has  thus  stated  the  purpose  of 
the  book.  Diderot,  he  says,  "intended  to  bring  together 
in  a  dictionary  all  that  had  been  discovered  in  the  sci- 
ences, what  was  known  of  the  productions  of  the  globe, 
the  details  of  the  arts  which  men  have  invented,  the 
principles  of  morals,  those  of  legislation,  the  laws  which 
govern  society,  the  metaphysics  of  language  and  the  rules 
of  grammar,  the  analysis  of  our  faculties,  and  even  the 
history  of  our  opinions."^  So  comprehensive  a  scheme 
was  not  without  danger  to  those  classes  which  claimed  an 
exclusive  right  to  direct  men's  minds.  As  for  the  double 
nature  of  the  book,  we  have  the  words  of  two  of  the  men 
most  concerned  in  its  preparation.  First  there  is  an  an- 
ecdote by  Voltaire,  certainly  inaccurate,  probably  quite 
imaginary,  but  setting  forth  most  clearly  one  cause  of  the 
interest  which  the  "  Encyclopsedia  "  excited. 

"A  servant  of  Louis  XV.  has  told  me  that  one  day 
when  the  king  his  master  was  supping  at  Trianon  with  a 
small  party,  the  conversation  turned  on  shooting  and  then 
on  gimpowder.  Somebody  said  that  the  best  powder  was 
made  of  equal  parts  of  saltpetre,  sulphur,  and  charcoal. 
The  Duke  of  La  Valliere,  better  informed,  maintained 
that  for  cannon  the  proper  proportion  was  one  part  of  sul- 
phur, one  of  charcoal,  and  five  of  well-filtered,  well-evap- 
orated, and  well-crystallized  saltpetre. 

"  'It  is  absurd,'  said  the  Duke  of  Nivernois,  'that  we 
should  amuse  ourselves  every  day  with  killing  partridges 
in  the  park  of  Versailles,  and  sometimes  with  killing 
men  or  getting  ourselves  killed  on  the  frontier,  and  not 
know  exactly  what  we  kill  with. ' 

"'Alas!  we  are  in  the  same  state  about  all  things  in  the 
world,'  answered  Madame  de  Poni])adour.  'I  don't  know 
of  what  the  rouge  is  composed  that  I  put  on  my  cheeks, 
and  I  should  be  much  puzzled  to  say  how  my  stockings  are 
made. ' 

^  D'Alembert,  OJuvres,  i.  79  (Eloge  par  Condorcet). 


256  THE   EVE   OF   THE   FRENCH   REVOLUTION. 

"'It  is  a  pity,'  then  said  the  Duke  of  La  Valliere,  'that 
His  Majesty  should  have  confiscated  our  encyclopaedic 
dictionaries,  which  cost  us  a  hundred  pistoles  apiece. 
We  should  soon  find  in  them  the  answers  to  all  our  ques- 
tions.' 

"The  king  justified  his  confiscation.  He  had  been 
warned  that  the  twenty-one  volumes  in  folio,  that  were 
to  be  found  on  all  the  ladies'  dressing-tables,  were  the 
most  dangerous  thing  in  the  world  for  the  French  mon- 
archy ;  and  he  wished  to  see  for  himself  if  that  were  true 
before  he  allowed  the  book  to  be  read.  After  supper  he 
sent  for  a  copy,  by  three  servants  of  his  bed-chamber, 
each  of  whom  brought  in  seven  volumes,  with  a  good  deal 
of  difficulty. 

"  They  saw,  in  the  article  on  gunpowder,  that  the  Duke 
of  La  Valliere  was  right.  Madame  de  Pompadour  soon 
learned  the  difference  between  the  old-fashioned  Spanish 
rouge,  with  which  the  ladies  of  Madrid  colored  their 
cheeks,  and  the  rouge  of  the  ladies  of  Paris.  She  learned 
that  the  Greek  and  Roman  ladies  were  painted  with  the 
purple  that  came  from  the  murex^  and  consequently  that 
our  scarlet  was  the  purple  of  the  ancients ;  that  there  was 
more  saffron  in  the  Spanish  rouge  and  more  cochineal  in 
the  French. 

"  She  saw  how  her  stockings  were  made  on  the  loom, 
and  the  machine  used  for  the  purpose  filled  her  with 
astonishment.  '  Oh,  what  a  fine  book,  sir ! '  she  cried. 
'Have  you  confiscated  this  store-house  of  all  useful  things 
in  order  to  own  it  alone,  and  to  be  the  only  wise  man  iii 
your  kingdom?  ' 

"  They  all  threw  themselves  upon  the  volumes,  like  the 
daughters  of  Lycomedes  on  the  jewels  of  Ulysses.  Each 
found  at  once  whatever  he  sought.  Those  that  had  law- 
suits on  hand  were  surprised  to  find  the  decision  of  their 
cases.  The  king  read  all  the  rights  of  his  crown.  'But, 
really,'  said  he,  'I  don't  know  why  they  spoke  so  ill  of 
this  book.' 


THE  ENCYCLOPEDIA.  257 

"'Do  you  not  see,  sir,'  said  the  Duke  of  Nivernois, 
*tliat  it  is  because  it  is  very  good?  People  do  not  attack 
poor  and  flat  things  of  any  kind.  When  the  women  try 
to  make  a  new-comer  appear  ridiculous,  she  is  sure  to  be 
prettier  than  they  are. ' 

"All  this  time  they  were  turning  over  the  pages,  and 

the  Count  of  C said  aloud,  'Sir,  you  are  too  happy 

that  men  should  have  been  found  in  your  reign  able  to 
know  all  the  arts  and  to  transmit  them  to  posterity. 
Everything  is  here,  from  the  way  of  making  a  pin  to  that 
of  casting  and  of  aiming  your  cannon ;  from  the  infinitesi- 
mal to  the  infinite.  Thank  God  for  having  given  birth 
in  your  kingdom  to  men  who  have  thus  served  the  whole 
world.  Other  nations  are  obliged  to  buy  the  "  Encyclo- 
paedia," or  to  imitate  it.  Take  all  I  have,  if  you  like, 
but  give  me  back  my  "Encyclopaedia."  ' 

"'But  they  say,'  rejoined  the  king,  'that  this  necessary 
and  admirable  work  has  many  faults.' 

"'Sir,'  replied  the  Count  of  C ,  'at  your  supper 

there  were  two  ragouts  that  were  failures.  We  did  not 
eat  them,  but  we  had  a  very  good  supper.  Would  you 
have  had  the  whole  of  it  thrown  out  of  the  window  on 
account  of  those  two  ragouts?  '  The  king  felt  the  force 
of  this  reasoning,  each  one  took  back  his  book,  and  it  was 
a  happy  day. 

"  But  Envy  and  Ignorance  did  not  consider  themselves 
beaten;  those  two  immortal  sisters  kept  up  their  cries, 
their  cabals,  their  persecutions.  Ignorance  is  very 
learned  in  that  way. 

' '  What  happened  ?  Foreigners  bought  out  four  editions 
of  this  French  work  which  was  proscribed  in  France, 
and  made  about  eighteen  hundred  thousand  dollars. 

"Frenchmen,  try  hereafter  to  understand  your  own 
interests."^ 

*  This  story  is  printed  among  '' Face  ties."  Morley  points  out 
that  Mme.  de  Pompadour  died  before  the  volumes  containing 
«  Poudre  "  and  "  Kouge  "  were  published.     Voltaire,  xlviii.  57. 


258     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

We  see  by  this  anecdote,  written  probably  to  puff  the 
book,  that  the  "Encyclopaedia"  was  recommended  for  the 
same  advantages  which  have  since  given  value  to  scores  of 
similar  works.  No  other  collection  of  general  informa- 
tion so  large  and  so  useful  was  then  in  existence.  Elab- 
orate descriptions  of  mechanism  abound  in  it,  and  are 
illustrated  by  beautiful  plates.  We  see  before  us  the  sim- 
ple beginnings  of  the  great  manufacturing  movement  of 
modern  times.  There  are  articles  on  looms,  on  cabinet 
work,  on  jewelry,  side  by  side  with  all  that  the  science  of 
that  day  could  teach  of  anatomy,  medicine,  and  natural 
history.  Nor  were  more  frivolous  subjects  forgotten. 
Nine  plates  are  given  to  billiards  and  tennis.  Choregra- 
phy,  or  the  art  of  expressing  the  figures  of  the  dance  on 
paper,  occupies  six  pages  of  text  and  two  of  illustrations, 
with  the  remark  that  it  is  one  of  the  arts  of  which  the 
ancients  were  ignorant,  or  which  they  have  not  transmitted 
to  us.  There  is  a  proposal  for  a  new  and  universal  lan- 
guage, based  of  course  on  French;  and  we  are  reminded 
by  an  article  on  Alcahest,  a  mysterious  drug  of  the  al- 
chemists, to  which  two  columns  and  a  half  are  devoted, 
that  the  eighteenth  century  was  nearer  to  the  Middle  Ages 
than  the  nineteenth.  It  was  an  idea  of  the  compilers 
of  the  "Encyclopaedia"  that  if  ever  civilization  should  be 
destroyed  mankind  might  turn  to  their  volumes  to  learn 
to  restore  it.^ 

Yet  all  this  mere  learning  was  not  what  came  nearest 
to  the  heart  of  Diderot  and  his  fellow-workers.  In  a 
moment  of  excitement,  when  smarting  from  the  excisions 
of  the  publisher  Le  Breton,  he  was  able  to  write  that  the 
success  of  the  book  was  owing  in  no  degree  to  ordinary, 
sensible,  and  common  things ;  that  perhaps  there  were  not 

^  History  and  geography  are  almost  passed  over  in  the  Encyclop(B' 
dia,  while  the  arts  and  sciences  are  fully  treated.  The  contempt  for 
history,  as  the  tale  of  human  errors,  was  common  among  the  Phi- 
losophers. 


THE   ENCYCLOPAEDIA.  259 

t\Yo  men  in  the  world  who  had  taken  the  trouble  to  read 
in  it  a  line  of  history,  geography,  mathematics,  or  even 
of  the  arts;  and  that  what  all  sought  in  the  "Encyclo- 
paedia "  was  the  firm  and  bold  philosophy  of  some  of  its 
writers.^ 

This  philosophy  appears  in  the  Preliminary  Discourse 
by  D'Alembert;  it  comes  up  again  time  after  time 
throughout  the  volumes.  The  metaphysics  are  founded 
chiefly  on  those  of  Locke,  who  "may  be  said  to  have 
created  metaphysics  as  Newton  created  physics,"  by  redu- 
cing them  to  "what  in  fact  they  should  be,  the  experi- 
mental physics  of  the  soul."  Beyond  this  there  is  little 
unity  of  opinion,  although  much  agreement  of  spirit.  We 
have  articles  on  government  and  on  taxation,  liberally  con- 
ceived, but  not  agreeing  as  to  actual  measures.  We 
have  a  prejudice  in  favor  of  democracy,  as  the  ideal  form 
of  government,  and  the  worship  of  theoretical  equality, 
but  contempt  for  the  populace,  "which  discerns  no- 
thing; "  the  reduction  of  religion  to  the  sentiments  of  mo- 
rality and  benevolence,  and  great  dislike  for  its  ministers 
and  especially  for  the  members  of  monastic  orders;  the 
belief  in  the  Legislator,  in  natural  laws  and  liberties,  in- 
cluding the  inalienable  right  of  every  man  to  dispose  of 
his  own  person  and  property  and  to  do  all  things  that  the 
laws  allow ;  faith  in  the  Philosopher,  a  man  governed  en- 
tirely by  reason  as  the  Christian  is  governed  by  grace.  To 
him.  Truth  is  not  a  mistress  corrupting  his  imagination. 
He  knows  how  to  distinguish  what  is  true,  what  is  false, 
what  is  doubtful,  and  he  glories  in  being  willing  to  re- 
main undetermined  when  he  has  not  the  material  for  judg- 
ment. The  Philosopher  understands  as  well  the  doctrines 
that  he  rejects  as  those  that  he  adopts.  His  spirit  brings 
everything  to  its  true   principles.     The   nations  will  be 

1  When  in  a  cooler  mood  Diderot  boasts  that  there  are  people  who 
have  read  the  book  through.     See  the  word  Encycloptdie,  vol.  v. 


260     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

happy  when  kings  are  Philosophers,  or  when  Philosophers 
are  kings. 

There  was  no  uniformity  of  execution  in  the  "Encyclo- 
paedia." The  editors  were  not  free  to  reject  all  that  they 
did  not  approve.  They  had  to  consider  the  feelings  of 
their  writers,  and  sometimes,  no  doubt,  to  print  a  poor 
article  by  a  valued  hand.  There  were  many  long  disser- 
tations where  short  articles  would  have  been  more  to 
the  purpose.  Diderot  was  not  the  man  to  repress  the  nat- 
ural tendency  of  contributors  to  wordiness.  Then  official 
censors  and  possible  prosecutors  had  to  be  considered. 
"Doubtless,"  says  D'Alembert  to  Voltaire,  in  reply  to  the 
latter's  remonstrances,  "doubtless  we  have  bad  articles  on 
theology  and  metaphysics;  but  with  theological  censors 
and  a  privilege,  I  defy  you  to  make  them  better.  There 
are  other  articles  less  conspicuous  where  all  is  repaired. 
Time  will  enable  people  to  distinguish  what  we  thought 
from  what  we  have  said."  ...  "It  is  certain,"  he  says  in 
another  place,  "that  several  of  our  workers  have  put  in 
worthless  things,  and  sometimes  declamation;  but  it  is 
still  more  certain  that  I  have  not  had  it  in  my  power  to 
alter  this  state  of  things.  I  flatter  myself  that  the  same 
judgment  will  not  be  passed  on  what  several  of  our  au- 
thors and  I  myself  have  furnished  for  this  work,  which 
apparently  will  go  down  to  posterity  as  a  monument  of 
what  we  would  and  what  we  could  not  do."  On  the 
whole  the  chief  of  the  Philosophers  was  satisfied.  "  Oh, 
how  sorry  I  am,"  he  exclaims,  "to  see  so  much  paste 
among  your  fine  diamonds ;  but  you  shed  your  lustre  on 
the  paste."  ^ 

1  Correspondence  of  Voltaire  and  D'Alembert  (A.  to  V.,  July  21, 
1757  ;  Jan.  11, 1758  ;  V.  to  A.,  Dec.  29,  1757).  Voltaire,  Ivii.  296, 
4M,  421. 


CHAPTER  XVn. 

HELVETIUS,  HOLBACH  AND  CHASTELLUX. 

There  are  two  books  issuing  so  directly  from  what  may 
be  called  the  orthodox  school  of  Philosophers,  and  so 
closely  connected  with  the  "Encyclopaedia"  and  its  au- 
thors, that  they  should  be  noticed  next  to  the  great  com- 
pilation itself.  One  of  them  has  already  been  mentioned. 
It  bears  the  untranslatable  title  "De  1' Esprit,"  a  word 
which  in  this  simple  and  unmodified  form  means  exactly 
neither  wit  nor  spirit,  but  something  between  the  two  and 
different  from  either. 

The  author,  Helvetius,  was  one  of  those  clever  men 
whose  ambition  it  is  to  shine.  The  son  of  a  fashionable 
physician,  he  had  made  a  fortune  as  a  farmer  of  the  rev- 
enue. He  had  been  addicted,  in  his  youth,  to  the  pur- 
suit of  women  and  of  literature,  and  had  subsequently 
shown  moderation  in  leaving  his  lucrative  office  and  the 
dissipations  of  the  town  and  retiring  into  the  country  with 
a  charming  wife.  For  eight  months  in  the  year  they  lived 
at  Vore,  not  unvisited  by  Philosophers ;  for  four  they  kept 
open  house  in  Paris.  Both  were  good  natured,  charita- 
ble, and  benevolent.  Among  the  Philosophers  Helvetius 
held  the  place  of  the  rich  and  clever  worldling,  so  often 
found  in  literary  circles. 

The  treatise  "De  I'Esprit "  has  for  its  object  the  setting 
forth  of  the  doctrine  of  utility  in  its  extreme  form.  As 
a  preliminary  argument  all  the  operations  of  the  mind  are 
reduced  to  sensation.  "When  by  a  succession  of  my 
ideas,  or  by  the  vibration  which  certain  sounds  cause  in 
the  organ  of  my  ears,  I  recall  the  image  of  an  oak,  then 


262     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

my  interior  organs  must  necessarily  be  nearly  in  the  same 
situation  as  they  were  at  the  sight  of  that  oak.  Now  this 
situation  of  the  organs  must  necessarily  produce  a  sensa- 
tion; it  is,  therefore,  evident  that  memory  is  sensation. 

"Having  stated  this  principle,  I  say  further  that  it  is 
in  the  capacity  which  we  have  of  perceiving  the  resem- 
blances or  the  differences,  the  agreement  or  the  disagree- 
ment, which  different  objects  have  with  each  other,  that 
all  the  operations  of  the  mind  consist.  Now  this  capacity 
is  nothing  else  than  physical  sensibility ;  therefore  every- 
thing is  reduced  to  sensation." 

Utility,  according  to  Helvetius,  is  the  foundation  of  all 
our  moral  feelings.  Each  person  praises  as  just  in  others 
only  those  actions  which  are  useful  to  himseK;  every  na- 
tion or  society  praises  what  is  useful  to  it  in  its  corporate 
capacity.  "If  a  judge  acquits  a  guilty  man,  if  a  minister 
of  state  promotes  an  unworthy  one,  each  is  just,  according 
to  the  man  protected.  But  if  the  judge  punishes,  or  the 
minister  refuses,  they  will  always  be  unjust  in  the  eyes  of 
the  criminal  and  of  the  unsuccessful."  .  .  .  "The  Chris- 
tians who  justly  spoke  of  the  cruelties  practiced  on  them 
by  the  pagans  as  barbarity  and  crime,  did  they  not  give 
the  name  of  zeal  to  the  cruelties  which  they,  in  their  turn, 
practiced  on  these  same  pagans?  "  As  the  physical  world 
is  subject  to  laws  of  motion,  so  is  the  moral  world  to  those 
of  interest.  All  men  alike  strive  after  their  own  happi- 
ness. It  is  the  diversity  of  passions  and  tastes,  some  of 
which  are  in  accordance  with  the  public  interest  and  oth- 
ers in  opposition  to  it,  which  form  our  virtues  and  our 
vices.  We  should,  therefore,  not  despise  the  wicked,  but 
pity  them,  and  thank  heaven  that  it  has  given  us  none  of 
those  tastes  and  passions  which  would  have  obliged  us  to 
seek  our  happiness  in  other  people's  misfortunes.  This 
opinion,  although  extravagantly  stated,  was,  as  we  have 
seen,  but  the  caricature  of  the  doctrine  of  utility,  as  taught 
by  Locke  and  held  by  his  followers. 


HELVETIUS,    HOLBACH,    AND    CHASTELLUX.  263 

Helvetius  took  great  pains  to  make  the  treatment  of  his 
theme  interesting.  He  labored  long  over  every  chapter. 
His  pages  overflow  with  anecdotes,  with  sneers  at  monks, 
and  with  excuses  for  lust.  They  show  the  belief  in  the 
omnipotence  of  legislation  which  was  common  in  his  day. 
A  large  space  is  devoted  to  minimizing  the  natural  in- 
equality of  mankind,  and  attributing  the  differences  ob- 
servable among  men  to  chance  or  to  education.  If  Galileo 
had  not  happened  to  be  walking  in  a  garden  in  Florence 
where  certain  workmen  asked  him  a  question  about  a  pump, 
he  would  not,  according  to  Helvetius,  have  discovered  the 
weight  of  the  atmosphere.  It  was  the  fall  of  the  apple 
which  gave  Newton  his  theory  of  gravitation.  Such  puer- 
ilities as  these  disgust  U3  in  the  book;  yet  the  theory 
that  greatness  is  but  the  result  of  an  inconsiderable  acci- 
dent, was  not  unnatural  in  one  who  had  probably  hit  on 
an  idea  which  struck  him  as  telling,  and  believed  that  he 
had  thereby  achieved  greatness.^ 

Helvetius  had  endeavored  to  carry  the  doctrines  of  the 
French  followers  of  Locke  to  their  last  logical  conclusions, 
but  the  successful  accomplishment  of  that  task  was  reserved 
for  a  stronger  and  steadier  hand  than  his.  Baron  Holbach 
was  an  amiable  and  good  man,  the  constant  friend  of  the 
Encyclopaedists.  At  his  house  they  often  met,  so  that  it 
came  to  be  known  among  them  as  the  Cafe  de  1' Europe, 
and  its  master  as  the  ''maitre  d'hotel"  of  Philosophy. 
But  these  nicknames  were  used  in  good  part.  Holbach 
had  none  of  the  flippancy  of  Helvetius.  His  book,  the 
1  Helvetius,  i.  130,  183  ;  ii.  7,  and  passbn.  For  Helvetius,  see 
Nouvelle  Biographie  universelle.  Morley,  Diderot,  ii.  141.  Grimui,  iv. 
80.  Morellet,  i.  71,  140.  Morellet  represents  himself  as  a  tame  cat 
in  Helvetius's  house.  Marmontel,  ii.  115  (liv.  vi.)  an  excellent  de- 
scription. Compare  Locke,  i.  261,  ii.  97.  The  doctrine  of  utility 
is  probably  nearly  as  old  as  philosophy  itself.  It  has  been  well  sug- 
gested that  although  not  the  ultimate  motive  of  virtue,  utility  may 
be  the  test  of  morals.  It  was,  in  a  measure,  Helvetius  that  inspired 
Bontham.     Morley,  Diderot,  ii.  154. 


264     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

"System  of  Nature,"  is  a  solemn,  earnest  argument,  pro- 
ceeding from  a  clear  brain  and  a  pure  heart.  Our  nature 
may  revolt  at  his  theories,  but  we  cannot  question  his 
honesty  or  his  benevolence.  The  book,  published,  as 
the  fashion  was,  under  a  false  name,  yet  expresses  the 
inmost  convictions  of  the  writer.^ 

"Men,"  he  says,  "will  always  make  mistakes,  when 
they  abandon  experience  for  systems  born  of  the  imagina- 
tion." Man  exists  in  nature  and  can  imagine  nothing 
outside  of  nature.  Let  him,  therefore,  cease  to  seek  be- 
yond the  world  he  inhabits  for  beings  which  shall  procure 
for  him  that  happiness  which  nature  refuses  to  give  him. 
"Man  is  a  being  purely  physical.  Moral  man  is  but  that 
being  considered  from  a  certain  point  of  view,  that  is  to 
say,  relatively  to  some  of  his  ways  of  acting,  due  to  his 
particular  organization."  All  human  actions,  visible  and 
invisible,  are  the  necessary  consequences  of  man's  mechan- 
ism, and  of  the  impulsions  which  it  receives  from  surround- 
ing entities. 

The  universe  is  made  up  of  matter  and  motion,  cause 
and  effect.  Nature  is  the  great  whole,  resulting  from  the 
assemblage  of  different  matters,  combinations,  and  mo- 
tions. By  motion  only  do  we  know  the  existence  and 
properties  of  other  beings  and  distinguish  them  from  each 
other.  There  is  continual  action  and  reaction  in  all  things. 
Love  and  hate  in  men  are  like  attraction  and  repulsion  in 
physics,  with  causes  more  obscure.  All  beings,  organic 
and  inorganic,  tend  to  self-preservation.  This  tendency 
in  man  is  called  self-love. 

1  The  name  assumed  was  that  of  Mirabaud,  once  secretary  to  the 
Academy,  who  had  died  before  the  book  appeared.  See  Morley, 
Diderot,  ii.  173,  as  to  the  authorship  of  the  System  of  Nature.  It  has 
sometimes  been  attributed  to  Diderot,  but  it  seems  clear  from  in- 
ternal evidence  that  Diderot  could  not  have  written  it.  The  style 
and  the  thought  are  both  too  compact  to  proceed  from  that  diffuse 
thinker  and  writer.  But  Diderot,  who  had  great  influence  on  many 
men,  may  have  suggested  some  of  the  ideas. 


ITELVETIUS,    IIOLBACH,    AND    CIIASTELLUX.  2G5 

There  is  in  reality  no  order  nor  disorder,  since  all  things 
are  necessary.  It  is  only  in  our  minds  that  there  exists 
the  model  of  what  we  call  order ;  like  other  abstract  ideas, 
it  corresponds  to  nothing  outside  of  ourselves.  Order  is 
no  more  than  the  faculty  of  coordinating  ourselves  with 
the  beings  that  surround  us,  or  with  the  whole  of  which 
we  form  a  part.  But  if  we  wish  to  apply  the  word  to 
nature,  it  may  stand  for  a  succession  of  actions  or  motions 
which  we  suppose  to  contribute  to  a  given  end.  We  call 
beings  intelligent  when  they  are  organized  like  ourselves, 
and  can  act  toward  an  end  which  we  understand. 

No  two  beings  are  exactly  alike ;  differences,  whether 
called  physical  or  moral,  being  the  result  of  their  bodily 
qualities.  These  differences  are  the  cause  and  the  sup- 
port of  human  society.  If  all  men  were  alike  they  would 
not  need  each  other.  It  is  a  mistake  to  complain  of  this 
inequality,  by  which  we  are  put  under  the  fortunate 
necessity  of  combining.  In  coming  together  men  have 
made  an  explicit  or  implied  compact,  by  which  they  have 
bound  themselves  to  render  mutual  services  and  not  to 
injure  each  other.  But  as  each  man's  nature  leads  him 
to  seek  to  satisfy  his  own  passions  or  caprices  without  re- 
gard to  others,  law  was  established  to  bring  him  back  to 
his  duty.  This  law  is  the  sum  of  the  wills  of  the  society, 
united  to  fix  the  conduct  of  its  members,  or  to  direct 
their  actions  towards  the  common  aim  of  the  association. 
For  convenience,  certain  citizens  are  made  executors  of 
the  popular  will,  and  are  called  monarchs,  magistrates, 
or  representatives,  according  to  the  form  of  the  govern- 
ment. But  that  form  may  be  changed,  and  all  the  powers 
of  all  persons  under  it  revoked,  at  the  will  of  the  society 
itself,  by  wliich  and  for  which  all  government  is  estab- 
lished. Laws,  to  be  just,  must  have  for  their  invariable 
end  the  general  interests  of  society;  they  must  procure 
for  the  greatest  number  of  citizens  the  advantages  for 
which  those  citizens  have  combined.      A  society  whose 


266     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

chiefs  and  whose  laws  do  not  benefit  its  members  loses 
all  rights  over  them.  Chiefs  who  do  harm  to  any  society 
lose  the  right  to  command  it.  By  not  applying  these 
maxims  the  nations  are  made  unhappy.  By  the  impru- 
dence of  nations,  and  by  the  craft  of  those  to  whom  power 
had  been  entrusted,  sovereigns  have  become  absolute 
masters.  They  have  claimed  to  hold  their  powers  from 
Heaven  and  not  to  be  resjjonsible  to  any  one  on  earth. 
Hence  politics  have  become  corrupt  and  no  more  than  a 
form  of  brigandage.  Man  unrestrained  soon  turns  to 
evil.  Only  by  fear  can  society  control  the  passions  of  its 
rulers.  It  must,  therefore,  confer  but  limited  powers  on 
any  one  of  them,  and  divide  those  forces  which,  if  united, 
would  necessarily  crush  it.^ 

Government  influences  alike,  and  necessarily,  the  physi- 
cal and  moral  welfare  of  nations.  As  its  care  produces 
labor,  activity,  abundance,  and  health,  its  neglect  and  its 
injustice  produce  indolence,  discouragement,  famine,  con- 
tagion, vices,  and  crimes.  It  can  bring  to  light,  or  can 
smother  talents,  skill,  and  virtue.  In  fact  the  govern- 
ment, distributing  rank,  wealth,  rewards  and  punish- 
ments ;  master  of  the  things  in  which  men  have  learned 
from  childhood  to  place  their  happiness,  acquires  a  neces- 
sary influence  on  their  conduct,  inflames  their  passions, 
turns  them  as  it  will,  modifies  and  settles  their  manners  and 
customs.2  These  are,  in  whole  nations,  as  in  individuals, 
but  the  conduct,  or  general  system  of  will  and  action 
which  necessarily  results  from  their  education,  their  gov- 
ernment, their  laws,  their  religious  opinions,  their  wise  or 
foolish  institutions.  In  short,  manners  and  customs  are 
the  habits  of  nations ;  good  when  they  produce  solid  and 
true  happiness  for  society,  and  detestable  in  the  eyes  of 
reason,  in  spite  of  the  sanction  of  laws,  usage,  religion, 

^  Holbach  is  clearly  indebted  both  to  Rousseau  and  to  Montesquieu. 
^  Mceurs,  a  word  for  which  we  have  no  exact  equivalent.     It  in- 
cludes the  idea  of  morals  as  well  as  that  of  customs. 


HELVETIUS,    HOLBACH,    AND    CIIASTELLUX.  267 

public  opinion  or  example,  when  they  have  the  support 
only  of  habit  and  prejudice,  which  seldom  consult  experi- 
ence and  good  sense.  No  action  is  so  abominable  that  it  is 
not,  or  has  not  been,  approved  by  some  nation.  Parricide, 
infanticide,  theft,  usurpation,  cruelty,  intolerance,  prosti- 
tution, have  been  allowed  and  even  considered  meritorious 
by  some  of  the  peoples  of  the  earth.  Religion  especially 
has  consecrated  the  most  revolting  and  unreasonable  cus- 
toms. 

The  cause  of  the  wickedness  and  corruption  of  men  is 
that  nowhere  are  they  governed  according  to  their  nature. 
Men  are  bad,  not  because  they  are  born  bad,  but  because 
they  are  made  so.  The  great  and  powerful  safely  crush 
the  poor  and  unfortunate,  who  try,  at  the  risk  of  their 
lives,  to  return  the  evil  they  have  suffered.  The  poor 
attack  openly,  or  in  secret,  that  unjust  society  which 
gives  all  to  some  of  its  children  and  takes  all  from  others. 

The  rights  of  a  man  over  his  fellows  can  be  founded 
only  on  the  happiness  which  he  procures  for  them,  or  for 
which  he  gives  them  cause  to  hope.  No  mortal  receives 
from  nature  the  right  to  command.  The  authority  which 
the  father  exercises  over  his  family  is  founded  on  the  ad- 
vantages which  he  is  supposed  to  bestow  upon  it.  Ranks 
in  political  society  have  their  basis  in  real  or  imaginary 
utility.  The  rich  man  has  rights  over  the  poor  man  solely 
by  virtue  of  the  well-being  which  he  may  bestow  upon 
him.  Genius,  talents,  art,  and  skill  have  claims  only  on 
account  of  the  pleasant  and  useful  things  with  which  they 
furnish  society.    To  be  virtuous  is  to  make  people  happy. 

A  society  enjoys  all  the  happiness  of  which  it  is  capable 
when  the  greater  number  of  its  members  is  fed,  clothed, 
and  lodged ;  when  most  men  can,  without  excessive  labor, 
satisfy  the  cravings  of  nature.  Men's  imagination  should 
be  satisfied  when  they  are  sure  that  the  fruits  of  their 
labor  cannot  be  taken  from  them,  and  that  they  are  work- 
ing for  themselves.     Beyond  this  all  is  superfluity,  and  it 


268  THE   EVE   OF   THE   FRENCH    REVOLUTION. 

is  foolish  that  a  whole  nation  should  sweat  to  give  luxuries 
to  a  few  persons  who  can  never  be  content  because  their 
imaginations  have  become  boundless. 

Keligion  is  a  delusion.  The  soul,  born  with  the  body, 
is  childish  in  children,  adult  in  manhood,  grows  old  with 
advancing  years.  It  is  vain  to  suppose  that  the  soul  sur- 
vives the  body.  To  die  is  to  think,  to  feel,  to  enjoy,  to 
suffer,  no  more.  Let  us  reflect  on  death,  not  to  encourage 
fear  and.  melancholy,  but  to  accustom  ourselves  to  look  at 
it  with  peaceful  eyes,  and  to  throw  off  the  false  terror 
with  which  the  enemies  of  our  peace  try  to  inspire  us. 

Utility  is  the  touchstone  of  systems,  opinions,  and 
actions ;  it  is  the  measure  of  our  very  love  of  truth.  The 
most  useful  truths  are  the  most  admired ;  we  call  those 
truths  great  which  most  concern  the  human  race ;  those 
futile  which  concern  only  a  few  men  whose  ideas  we  do 
not  share. 

The  doctrine  of  utility  is  combined  with  that  of  neces- 
sity. Most  of  the  French  Philosophers  were  necessarians, 
but  Holbach  expressed  the  doctrine  in  a  more  extreme 
form  than  the  others.  Will,  according  to  him,  is  a  mod- 
ification of  the  brain  by  which  it  is  disposed,  or  prepared, 
to  set  our  other  organs  in  motion.  The  will  is  necessarily 
determined  by  the  quality  and  pleasantness  of  the  ideas 
which  act  upon  it.  Deliberation  is  the  oscillation  of  the 
will  when  moved  in  different  directions  by  opposing 
forces ;  determination  is  the  final  prevalence  of  one  force 
over  the  other.  There  is  no  difference  between  the  man 
who  throws  himseK  out  of  a  window  and  the  man  who  is 
thrown  out,  except  that  the  impulse  on  the  latter  comes 
from  something  outside  of  himself,  and  that  of  the  former 
from  something  within  his  own  mechanism.^ 

^  Chaudon,  the  Benedictine,  probably  the  cleverest  of  the  clerical 
writers  of  the  time,  thus  attacks  the  doctrine  of  necessity,  as  set  forth 
by  Holbach.  The  author  of  the  System  has  certainly  given  out  very 
fine  maxims  of  morality,  very  pathetic  exhortations  to  virtue  ;  but  with 


HELVETIUS,    HOLBACH,    AND    CHASTELLUX.  269 

Nature  has  made  men  neither  good  nor  bad ;  it  has  made 
them  machines.  Man  is  virtuous  only  in  obedience  to 
the  call  of  interest.  Morals  are  founded  on  our  approba- 
tion of  those  actions  which  are  advantageous  to  the  race. 
When  good  actions  benefit  others  and  not  ourselves  our 
approbation  of  them  is  similar  to  the  admiration  we  feel 
for  a  fine  picture  belonging  to  some  one  else.  The  good 
man  is  he  whose  true  ideas  have  shown  him  that  his  hap- 
piness lies  in  a  line  of  conduct  which  others  are  forced  by 
their  own  interests  to  like  and  approve.  By  virtue  we 
acquire  the  good  will  of  our  neighbors,  and  no  man  can 
be  happy  without  it.  Our  self-love  becomes  a  hundred 
times  more  delightful  when  to  it  is  joined  the  love  of 
others  for  us.  Let  us  remember  that  the  most  impractica- 
ble of  all  designs  is  that  of  being  happy  alone. 

To  this  point  in  his  argument  Holbach  had  only  re- 
peated with  strength,  clearness  and  consistency  what  the 
school  of  the  Philosophers  from  Voltaire  to  Helvetius  had 
either  affirmed  or  hinted.  In  his  second  volume,  how- 
ever, he  boldly  cut  loose  from  his  predecessors  and  avowed 
his  disbelief  in  any  God.  Voltaire  and  Kousseau  were 
theists,  with  different  sorts  of  faith,  and  the  Philosophers, 
although  treating  all  churches,  and  especially  all  priests, 
with  contempt,  had  retained,  at  least  in  speech,  some  rem- 
nant of  theism.  But  Holbach  declared  that  God  was  an 
illusion,  devised  by  the  fears  and  the  ignorance  of  man- 
kind. "The  idea  of  Divinity,"  he  says,  "always  awakens 
afflicting  ideas  in  our  minds."  By  the  word  "God"  men 
mean  the  most  hidden  or  remote  cause ;  they  use  the  word 
only  when  the  chain  of  material  and  known  causes  ceases 

his  principles  this  can  be  but  a  joke.  It  is  an  absurdity,  like  that  of 
a  man  who,  recognizing  that  his  watch  was  only  a  machine,  should 
not  fail  to  exhort  it  every  day  to  prevent  its  getting  out  of  order. 
Grosse,  Diet.  (Vantiphllosophlsme,  923.  Holbach  would  probably  have 
replied  that  he  was  necessarily  obliged  to  exhort,  and  that  Chaudon 
was  fatally  forced  to  answer. 


270  THE   EVE   OF   THE    FRENCH   REVOLUTION. 

to  be  visible  to  them.  It  is  a  vague  name  wliieli  they  ap- 
ply to  a  cause  short  of  which  their  indolence,  or  the  limits 
of  their  knowledge,  forces  them  to  stop.  Men  found 
nature  deaf  to  their  cries;  they  therefore  imagined  an  in- 
telligent master  over  it,  hoping  that  he  would  listen  to 
them. 

This  theme  is  elaborated  by  Holbach  throughout  his 
second  volume.  Here  as  elsewhere  he  writes  with  serious- 
ness and  conviction,  although  some  of  his  logical  positions 
are  assailable.  Never  before  in  France  had  materialism, 
necessarianism  and  atheism  been  so  clearly  and  forcibly 
expounded.  The  very  Philosophers  were  alarmed.  Vol- 
taire hastened  to  write  an  article  on  God  so  unconvincing, 
that  it  can  hardly  have  convinced  himself.  It  amounts 
to  little  more  than  an  argument  that  God  is  the  most 
probable  of  hypotheses,  and  it  admits  that  there  may  be 
two  or  several  gods  as  well  as  one.  It  is  not  unlikely 
that  Voltaire  thought  it  necessary  for  his  peace  in  the 
world  to  protest  against  so  outspoken  a  book  as  the  "  Sys- 
tem of  Nature." 

The  true  answer  to  Holbach  is  to  be  found  in  a  differ- 
ent order  of  ideas  from  any  that  Voltaire  was  prepared  to 
accept.  Yet  Locke  might  have  taught  him  that  if  there 
is  no  logical  reason  to  believe  in  the  existence  of  mind, 
there  is  as  little  to  believe  in  the  existence  of  matter.  Ex- 
perience might  have  shown  him  that  men  do  not  always 
seek  the  thing  which  they  believe  most  useful  to  them- 
selves. The  old  and  favorite  doctrine  of  utility  labors 
under  the  disadvantage  that  it  has  never  shown,  nor  ever 
can  show,  an  adequate  reason  why  any  man  should  care 
for  another  or  for  the  race.  And  as  for  the  existence  of 
God,  —  that  can  no  more  be  proved  by  argument  than  the 
existence  of  matter,  mind,  or  the  non-ego. 

Helvetius  and  Holbach  had  worked  out  the  theories  of 
the  school  to  their  last  philosophical  conclusion.  A 
younger  writer  in  the  last  years  of  the  reign  of  Louis 


HELVETIUS,    HOLBACH,    AND   CHASTELLUX.  271 

XV.  was  to  furnish  the  complete  application  of  them. 
The  Chevalier  de  Chastellux  is  well  known  in  America  by 
the  book  of  travels  which  he  wrote  when  he  accompanied 
the  Marquis  of  Rochambeau  in  the  Revolutionary  War. 
Chastellux  was  just  then  at  the  height  of  his  reputation. 
He  had  published  in  1772  a  book  which,  although  now 
ahuost  forgotten,  is  still  interesting  as  a  link  between  the 
thought  of  the  last  century  and  that  of  a  large  school  of 
thinkers  to-day.  The  title  is  "Of  Public  Felicity,  or 
considerations  on  the  fate  of  men  in  the  different  Epochs 
of  History,"  and  the  motto  is  Nil  Des'pevanduni.  "So 
many  people  have  written  the  history  of  men,''  says  Chas- 
tellux; "will  not  that  of  humanity  be  read  with  pleasure  ?  " 
And  again :  "  Several  authors  have  carefully  examined  if 
such  a  Nation  were  more  religious,  more  sober,  more  war- 
like than  another ;  none  has  yet  sought  to  discover  which 
was  the  happiest." 

The  object  of  inquiry  being  thus  indicated,  it  becomes 
of  the  first  importance  to  consider  what  test  of  happiness 
Chastellux  will  propose.  He  leaves  us  in  no  doubt  on  this 
point.  ■  "  A  happy  nation  is  not  one  which  lives  with  little ; 
the  Goths  and  Vandals  lived  with  little,  and  they  sought 
abundance  in  other  regions.  A  happy  nation  is  not  one 
which  is  hardened  to  trouble  and  labor;  the  Goths  and 
Vandals  were  hardened  to  labor,  and  they  sought  elsewhere 
for  softness  and  rest.  A  happy  nation  is  not  one  which  is 
strongest  in  battle ;  it  fights  only  to  obtain  peace  and  the 
commodities  of  life.  A  happy  nation  is  one  which  enjoys 
ease  and  liberty,  which  is  attached  to  its  possessions,  and, 
above  all  things,  which  does  not  desire  to  change  its  con- 
dition." And  in  another  place  he  asks,  what  are  some  of 
the  indications,  the  symptoms  of  public  felicity.  Two  of 
them,  he  says,  are  naturally  presented :  agriculture  and 
population.  "I  name  agriculture  before  population,"  he 
continues,  "because  if  it  happens  that  a  nation  which  is 
not  numerous  cultivates  carefully  a  great  quantity  of  land, 


272     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

it  will  result  that  this  nation  consumes  much,  and  adds 
to  the  food  necessary  to  life  the  ease  and  commodity 
which  make  its  happiness.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  the 
increase  of  the  people  is  in  proportion  to  that  of  the  agri- 
culture, what  can  we  conclude  except  that  this  multiplica- 
tion of  the  human  race,  as  of  all  other  species,  comes  solely 
from  its  well-being.  Agriculture  is,  therefore,  an  indica- 
tion of  the  happiness  of  the  nations  anterior  and  preferable 
to  population."  The  most  certain  indication  of  felicity  is 
a  large  proportional  consumption  of  products ;  a  high  rate 
of  living.  The  marvelous  and  even  the  sublime  are  to  be 
dreaded;  but  "all  that  multiplies  men  in  the  nations,  and 
harvests  on  the  surface  of  the  earth,  is  good  in  itself,  is 
good  above  all  things,  and  preferable  to  all  that  seems 
fine  in  the  eyes  of  prejudice."  ^ 

And  as  material  good  is  the  only  good,  so  it  is  in  mod- 
ern times  and  in  civilized  countries  that  the  highest  point 
reached  by  humanity  is  to  be  found.  "  If  wisdom  be  the 
art  of  happy  living ;  if  philosophy  be  truly  the  love  of  wis- 
dom, as  its  name  alone  would  give  us  to  understand,  the 
Greeks  were  never  philosophers." 

To  show  that  modern  nations  are  increasing  the  ease 
and  comfort  of  life  to  a  point  unknown  before  is  no  diffi- 
cult task.  Chastellux  enumerates  the  discoveries  of  phy- 
sical science,  and  touches  on  the  achievements  of  learning 
and  the  arts,  then  calls  on  his  readers  to  look  on  all  these 
but  as  payments  on  account  in  the  progress  of  our  know- 
ledge ;  as  so  much  of  the  road  already  passed  in  the  vast 
course  of  the  human  mind.     Here  we  have  the  truly  mod- 

1  Chastellux  finds  it  hard  to  stick  quite  close  to  his  definition  of 
felicity.  Of  the  English  he  says,  "  Such  are  the  true  advantages  of 
this  nation  ;  which,  joined  to  the  safety  of  its  property  and  the  ines- 
timable privilege  of  depending  only  on  the  law,  would  make  it  the 
happiest  on  earth,  if  its  climate,  its  ancient  manners  and  customs, 
and  its  frequent  revolutions  had  not  turned  it  toward  discontent  and 
melancholy.  But  these  considerations  do  not  belong  to  our  subject." 
ii.  144. 


HELVETIUS,   HOLBACH,    AND   CHASTELLUX.  273 

em  ideal  of  progress ;  the  end  of  government  the  greatest 
happiness  of  the  greatest  number,  and  happiness  depend- 
ent merely  on  material  conditions.  Morals  under  this 
system  are  but  a  branch  of  medicine.  Religion  is  an  old- 
fashioned  prejudice.  Let  us  push  on  and  unite  the  world 
in  one  great,  comfortable,  well-fed  family.  Such  is  the 
last  practical  advice  of  the  French  Philosophic  school  of 
the  eighteenth  century  and  of  its  unconscious  followers  in 
this.  If  the  conclusion  does  not  satisfy  the  highest  aspi- 
rations of  the  human  race,  that  is  perhaps  because  of  some 
flaw  in  the  premises. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

Rousseau's  political  writings. 

In  passing  from  the  study  of  the  Philosophers  to  that 
of  Rousseau,  we  turn  from  talent  to  genius,  from  system 
to  impulse.  The  theories  of  the  great  Genevan  were 
drawn  from  his  own  strange  nature,  with  little  regard  for 
consistency.  They  belong  together  much  as  the  features 
of  a  distorted  and  changeful  countenance  may  do ;  their 
unity  is  personal  rather  than  systematic.  And  while 
Rousseau  was,  from  certain  aspects  and  chiefly  in  respect 
to  his  conduct,  the  most  contemptible  of  the  great  thinkers 
of  his  day,  he  surpassed  most  of  the  others  in  constant  lit- 
erary sincerity,  and  in  occasional  elevation  of  thought  and 
feeling.  Voltaire,  although  never  swerving  long  from  his 
own  general  philosophical  scheme,  would  lie  without  hesi- 
tation for  any  purpose.  Diderot  would  quote  from  non- 
existent books  to  establish  his  theories.  But  no  one  can 
read  Rousseau  without  being  convinced  that  he  believed 
what  he  wrote,  at  least  at  the  moment  of  writing  it. 
Truthfulness  of  this  kind  is  quite  consistent  with  inaccu- 
racy, and  it  is  probable  that  some  incidents  in  Rousseau's 
autobiographical  writings  have  been  wrongly  remembered, 
colored  by  prejudice,  or  embellished  by  vanity.  Some  of 
them  may  even  be  completely  fictitious ;  the  author  caring 
little  for  facts  except  as  the  ornaments  and  illustrations  of 
ideas.  But  what  he  thought  in  the  abstract  Rousseau  was 
quite  ready  to  write  down,  caring  little  for  the  feelings  or 
the  opinions  of  any  sect  or  party ;  or  even  of  that  great 
public  whose  thought  was  as  law  to  the  Philosophers.  He 
deserved  to  profit  by  his  sincerity,  and  he  has  done  so.    His 


Rousseau's  political  writings.  275 

many  and  great  faults  were  well  known  to  his  contempo- 
raries; they  are  told  in  his  posthumous  "Confessions"  in 
a  way  to  show  them  more  dark  than  any  contemporary 
could  have  imagined;  yet  such  is  the  evident  frankness 
of  those  evil  and  repugnant  volumes  that  many  decent  men 
have  got  from  them  a  sneaking  kindness  for  Kousseau,  and 
an  inclination  to  take  him  at  his  own  estimate,  as  one  no 
worse  than  other  people. 

This  estimate  of  himself  is  never  to  be  forgotten  in 
reading  his  books.  "You  see  what  I  am,  "  he  seems  to 
say  at  every  turn;  "now,  I  am  a  good  man."  In  the 
belief  in  his  own  comparative  goodness  he  was  firmly  fixed. 
His  theories  of  life  were  largely  founded  on  it.  For 
Kousseau  was  an  introspective  thinker,  and  thus  in  seem- 
ing opposition  to  the  intellectual  tendency  of  his  age. 
Voltaire  and  Diderot  were  interested  chiefly  in  the  world 
around  them.  Locke  had  viewed  his  own  mind  objec- 
tively ;  he  had  attempted  the  feat  of  getting  outside  of  it, 
in  order  to  take  a  good  look  at  it ;  and  in  so  doing  he  had 
missed  seeing  some  important  parts  of  it,  because  they 
were  internal.  Rousseau  studied  himself  and  the  world 
within  himself.  Thus  while  he  was  as  immoral  in  his 
actions  as  any  of  the  Philosophers,  he  was  more  religious 
than  any  of  them.  Voltaire's  theism  was  little  more  than 
a  remnant  of  early  habit,  strengthened  by  a  notion  that 
some  sort  of  religion  was  necessary  for  purposes  of  police. 
To  Eousseau,  a  world  without  a  God  would  have  been 
truly  empty.  But  as  his  religion  was  theistic,  and  not  or- 
thodox ;  as,  with  characteristic  meanness,  he  was  ready  to 
profess  Catholicism  or  Calvinism  as  he  might  find  it  con- 
venient, he  has  been  classed  among  atheists  by  churchmen. 
In  so  far  as  this  is  mere  vituperation  it  is  perhaps  deserved, 
for  Rousseau's  life  deserved  almost  any  conceivable  vitu- 
peration; but  as  an  historical  fact,  Rousseau's  faith  was 
quite  as  living  as  that  of  many  of  his  revilers. 

1  Rousseau  looked  on  Catholicism  and  Calvinism  rather  as  civil 


276     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

Every  thinking  human  being  has  a  philosophy  and  a 
theology,  —  a  metaphysical  foundation  for  his  beliefs,  and 
an  opinion  concerning  the  Deity.  The  only  escape  from 
having  these  is  to  think  of  nothing  outside  of  the  daily 
routine  of  life.  The  attempt  to  be  without  them  on 
any  other  terms  generally  ends  in  having  but  crude  and 
contradictory  opinions  on  the  most  important  subjects  of 
human  interest.  The  theology  of  Rousseau  will  be  con- 
sidered later.  Philosophical  systems  were  his  especial 
bugbear,  and  it  is  only  incidentally  that  he  formulates  his 
metaphysical  ideas.  His  general  tendency  of  belief  was 
toward  intuition.  Justice  and  virtue  he  believed  to  be 
written  in  the  hearts  of  men,  disturbed  rather  than  eluci- 
dated by  the  observation  of  the  learned  and  the  reflection 
of  the  ingenious.  As  to  the  ground  of  our  actions  he 
was  less  at  one  with  himself.  Sometimes,  in  agreement 
with  the  prevalent  philosophy  of  his  day,  he  assumed  that 
men  are  moved  only  by  their  own  interest.  At  times, 
however,  he  recognized  two  principles  of  human  action 
anterior  to  reason ;  the  first  of  which  is  care  for  our  own 
well-being ;  the  second,  a  natural  repugnance  to  see  others 
suffer.  In  making  this  distinction  he  separated  from  the 
school  of  thinkers  to  whom  pity  and  affection  are  but  re- 
fined forms  of  self-love.  This  is  characteristic  of  Rous- 
seau, who  was  free  from  that  craving  for  system  which  is 
the  snare  of  those  minds  in  which  logic  and  pure  reason 
prevail  over  acuteness  of  self -observation. 

The  society  of  the  eighteenth  century  had  grown  very 
rigid  and  artificial.  The  struggle  of  the  Philosophers 
was  to  bring  men  back  in  one  way  and  another  to  a  life 
founded  rationally  on  a  few  simple  laws  derived  from  the 
nature  of  things.  Of  these  laws  the  leaders  themselves 
had  not  always  a  true  perception,  nor  did  they  always 

systems  than  as  ideas,  and  accepted  them  in  the  same  way  in  which 
a  man  may  live  under  a  foreign  government,  of  whose  principles  he 
does  not  approve. 


ROUSSEAU'S   POLITICAL   WRITINGS.  277 

derive  the  right  rules  from  such  laws  as  they  perceived. 
But  their  struggle  was  ever  for  reason,  as  they  understood 
it,  and  generally  for  simplicity.  In  this  work  Rousseau 
was  a  leader.  He  was  constantly  preaching  the  merits  and 
the  charms  of  a  simple  life.  In  his  denunciations  of  elab- 
orateness, of  luxury,  and  even  of  civilization,  he  was  often 
mistaken,  sometimes  absurd.  But  his  authority  was 
great.  He  set  a  fashion  of  simplicity,  and  he  exerted  an 
influence  which  went  far  beyond  fashion,  and  has  helped 
to  modify  the  world  to  this  day. 

There  was  another  quality  beside  introspection  in  which 
Rousseau  was  the  precursor  of  the  literary  men  of  the 
nineteenth  century,  and  that  is  the  love  of  nature.  To 
say  that  he  was  the  first  great  writer  to  enjoy  and  describe 
natural  scenery  would  be  a  gross  exaggeration.  But  most 
of  Rousseau's  predecessors  valued  the  world  out  of  doors 
principally  for  its  usefulness,  and  in  proportion  to  its  fer- 
tility. Rousseau  is  perhaps  the  first  great  writer  who  fairly 
reveled  in  country  life ;  for  whom  lake  and  mountain,  rock 
and  <jloud,  tree  and  flower,  had  a  constant  joy  and  mean- 
ing. The  true  enjoyment  of  natural  scenery,  generally 
affected  nowadays,  is  not  given  in  a  high  degree  to  most 
people  ;  in  a  very  few  it  may  be  as  intense  as  the  enjoy- 
ment of  music  is  in  many  more ;  but  most  people  can  get 
from  scenery,  as  from  other  beautiful  things,  a  reasonable 
and  modest  enjoyment,  if  the  object  for  their  admiration 
be  well  pointed  out  to  them.  Rousseau  needed  no  such 
instruction.  To  some  extent  he  furnished  it  to  the  mod- 
ern world.  The  genuineness  of  his  love  of  nature  is 
partly  shown  by  the  fact  that  she  was  as  dear  to  him  in 
her  simpler  as  in  her  grander  aspects.  The  grass  filled 
him  with  delight  as  truly  as  the  mountain -peak ;  indeed, 
he  felt  contempt  for  those  who  look  afar  for  the  beauty 
that  is  all  about  us,  and  his  admiration  was  not  reserved 
for  the  unusual.  Nor  did  he  fill  his  pages  with  descrip- 
tion.    It  is  in  his  autobiographical  writings  and  in  refer- 


278  THE   EVE   OF  THE   FRENCH   REVOLUTION. 

ence  to  its  effect  on  himself  that  he  most  often  mentions 
natural  scenery.  Recognizing  instinctively  that  the  prin- 
cipal subjects  of  language  are  thought  and  action,  as  the 
chief  interests  of  painting  are  form  and  color,  this  writer 
so  keenly  alive  to  natural  beauty  is  guiltless  of  word 
painting. 

Jean  Jacques  Rousseau  was  born  at  Geneva  on  the  28th 
of  June,  1712.     His  mother,  the  daughter  of  a  Protestant 
minister,  died  at  his  birth.     His  father,  a  clockmaker  by 
trade,  a  man  of  eccentric  disposition,  had  little  real  con- 
trol over  the  boy,  and,  moreover,  soon  moved  away  from 
the  city  on  account  of  a  quarrel  with  its  government, 
leaving  his  son  behind  him.     Jean  Jacques  was  first  put 
under  the  care  of  a  minister  in  a  neighboring  village ;  then 
passed  two  or  three  years  with  an  uncle  in  the  town.     At 
the  age  of  eleven  he  was  sent  to  a  notary's  office,  whence 
he  was  dismissed  for  dullness  and  inaptitude.     He  was 
next  apprenticed  to  an  engraver,  a  man  of  violent  temper, 
who  by  his  cruelty  brought  out  the  meanness  inherent  in 
the  boy's  weak  nature.     Rousseau  had  not  been  incapable 
of  generosity ;  perhaps  he  never  quite  became  so.     But, 
with  a  cowardly  temperament,  he  especially  needed  firm 
kindness  and  judicious  reproof,  and  these  he  did  not  re- 
ceive.    He  took  to  pilfering  from  his  master,   who,   in 
return,  used  to  beat  him.     Rousseau's  thefts  were,  in  fact, 
not  very  considerable,  —  apples  from  the  larder,  graving 
tools  from  the  closet.     His  worst  offenses  at  this  time 
were  not  such  as  would  make  us  condemn  very  harshly  a 
lad  of  spirit.     But  Jean  Jacques  was  not  such  a  lad.     The 
last  of  his  scrapes  as  an  apprentice  was  important  only 
from  its  consequences.     One  afternoon  he  had  gone  with 
some  comrades  on  an  expedition  beyond  the  city  gates. 
"Half  a  league  from  the  town,"  say  the  "Confessions," 
"I  hear  the  retreat  sounded,  and  hasten  my  steps;  I  hear 
the  drum  beat,  and  run  with  all  my  might ;  I  arrive  out  of 
breath,  all  in  a  sweat;  my  heart  beats;  I  see  from  a  dis- 


Rousseau's  political  writings.  279 

tance  the  soldiers  at  their  posts ;  I  rush  on ;  I  cry  with  a 
failing  voice.  It  was  too  late.  When  twenty  yards  from 
the  outpost  I  see  the  first  drawbridge  going  up.  I 
tremble  as  I  see  in  the  air  those  terrible  horns,  sinister 
and  fatal  augury  of  that  terrible  fate  which  was  at  that 
moment  beginning  for  me. 

"In  the  first  violence  of  my  grief  I  threw  myself  on 
the  glacis  and  bit  the  earth.  My  comrades  laughed  at 
their  misfortune  and  made  the  best  of  it  at  once.  I  also 
made  up  my  mind,  but  in  another  way.  On  the  very  spot 
I  swore  that  I  would  never  go  back  to  my  master,  and  on 
the  morrow,  when  the  gates  were  opened  and  they  returned 
to  town,  I  bade  them  adieu  forever." 

Thus  did  Rousseau  become  a  wanderer  at  the  age  of 
sixteen.  The  duchy  of  Savoy,  into  which  he  first  passed, 
adjoined  the  republic  of  Geneva,  and  was  a  country  as 
fervently  Catholic  as  the  other  was  ardently  Calvinistic. 
The  young  runaway  soon  fell  in  with  a  proselytizing  priest, 
who  gave  him  a  good  dinner  and  dispatched  him,  for  the 
furtherance  of  his  conversion,  to  a  singular  lady,  living 
not  far  off,  at  Annecy.  This  lady,  named  Madame  de 
Warens,  about  twelve  years  older  than  Rousseau,  was  not 
long  after  to  occupy  a  large  place  in  his  life.  She  be- 
longed to  a  Protestant  family  of  Vevay,  on  the  north  side 
of  the  Lake  of  Geneva.  She,  like  him,  had  fled  from 
her  country,  and  apparently  for  no  more  serious  reason. 
In  her  flight  she  had  left  her  husband  and  abjured  her 
religion.  In  morals  she  had  a  system  of  her  own,  and 
gave  herself  to  many  men,  without  interested  motives, 
but  with  little  passion.  She  was  a  sentimental,  active- 
minded  woman,  of  small  judgment;  pleasing  rather  than 
beautiful,  short  of  stature,  thickset,  but  with  a  fine  head 
and  arms.  Madame  de  Warens  received  the  boy  kindly, 
and  on  this  first  occasion  of  their  meeting  did  little  more 
than  speed  him  on  his  way  to  Turin,  where  he  entered  a 
monastery  for  the  express  purpose  of  being  converted  to 


280     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

Catholicism.  In  nine  days  the  farce  was  completed,  and 
the  new  Catholic  turned  out  into  the  town,  with  about 
twenty  francs  of  small  change  in  his  pocket,  charitably 
contributed  by  the  witnesses  of  the  ceremony  of  his  abju- 
ration. It  is  needless  to  dwell  on  his  adventures  at  this 
time.  He  was  a  servant  in  two  different  families.  After 
something  more  than  a  year  he  left  Turin  on  foot,  and 
wandered  back  to  Annecy  and  to  Madame  de  Warens. 

The  period  of  Rousseau's  life  in  which  that  lady  was 
the  ruling  influence  lasted  ten  or  twelve  years.  The  sit- 
uation was  one  from  which  any  man  of  manly  instincts 
would  have  shrunk,  a  condition  of  dependence  on  a  mis- 
tress, and  on  a  mistress  who  made  no  pretense  of  fidelity. 
In  a  desultory  way  Rousseau  learned  something  of  music 
at  this  time,  and  made  some  long  journeys  on  foot,  one  of 
them  taking  him  as  far  as  Paris.  This  man,  morally  of 
soft  fibre,  was  able  to  endure  and  enjoy  moderate  physical 
hardship ;  and  from  early  education  felt  most  at  home  in 
simple  houses  and  amid  rude  surroundings.  At  last,  dis- 
gusted with  the  appearance  of  a  new  rival  in  Madame  de 
Warens 's  changeable  household,  Rousseau  left  that  lady 
and  drifted  off  to  Lyons ;  then,  after  once  trying  the  ex- 
periment of  returning  to  his  mistress  and  finding  it  a  fail- 
ure, to  Paris. 

For  more  than  eight  years  after  his  final  separation 
from  Madame  de  Warens,  Rousseau  did  nothing  to  make 
any  one  suppose  him  to  be  a  man  of  genius.  He  obtained 
and  threw  up  the  position  of  secretary  to  the  French  am- 
bassador at  Venice ;  he  supported  himself  as  a  musician 
and  as  a  private  secretary;  he  lived  from  hand  to  mouth, 
having  as  a  companion  one  Therese  Levasseur,  a  gro- 
tesquely illiterate  maid  servant,  picked  up  at  an  inn. 
Their  five  children  he  successively  took  to  the  Foundling, 
losing  sight  of  them  forever.  To  the  mother  he  was  faith- 
ful for  the  most  part,  although  not  without  some  amorous 
vanderings,  for  many  years. 


Rousseau's  political  writings.  281 

Up  to  1749,  then,  when  Rousseau  was  thirty-seven  years 
old,  he  had  published  nothing  of  importance.  He  had, 
however,  some  acquaintance  with  literary  men,  being 
known  merely  as  one  of  those  adventurers  without  any 
settled  means  of  existence,  who  may  always  be  found  in 
cities,  and  with  whom  Paris  at  this  time  appears  to  have 
been  over-furnished.  In  features  he  was  plain,  in  man- 
ners awkward;  much  given  to  making  compliments  to 
women,  but  generally  displeasing  to  them,  although  at 
times  interesting  when  roused  to  excitement.  The  Swiss 
Jean  Jacques  had  little  of  the  sparkling  wit  which  the 
Frenchmen  of  his  day  rated  very  high,  but  he  had  much 
subtlety  of  observation  and  many  ideas.  He  constantly 
applauded  himself  in  his  writings  on  being  sensible  rather 
than  witty.  In  fact  he  was  neither,  but  very  ingenious 
and  eloquent.  In  character  he  was  self-indulgent  but 
not  luxurious,  sensitive,  vain,  and  sentimental.  To  this 
man,  —  if  we  may  believe  his  own  account,  and  I  think 
in  the  main  we  may  do  so,  —  there  came  by  a  sudden  flash 
an  idea  which  altered  his  whole  life,  and  which  has  mate- 
rially affected  millions  of  lives  since  he  died.  The  idea 
was  an  evil  seed,  and  it  found  an  evil  soil  to  grow  in. 

The  summer  of  1749  was  a  hot  one.  Diderot,  just 
rising  into  notice  as  a  man  of  letters,  had  been  impris- 
oned in  the  Castle  of  Vincennes,  for  his  "Letter  on  the 
Blind,"  and  his  friends  were  allowed  to  come  and  see  him. 
Rousseau  used  to  visit  him  every  other  afternoon,  walking 
the  four  or  five  miles  which  lie  between  the  centre  of  Paris 
and  the  castle.  The  trees  along  the  road  were  trimmed 
after  the  dreary  French  fashion,  and  gave  little  shade. 
From  time  to  time  Rousseau  would  stop,  lie  down  on  the 
grass  and  rest,  and  he  had  got  into  the  habit  of  taking  a 
book  or  a  newspaper  in  his  pocket.  It  was  in  this  way 
that  his  eye  happened  to  fall  on  a  paragraph  in  the  "  ]\Ier- 
cure  de  France,"  announcing  that  the  Academy  of  Dijon 
would  give  a  prize  the  next  year  for  the  best  essay  on  the 


282     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

following  subject :   "  Whether  the  Progress  of  the  Arts  and 
Sciences  has  tended  to  corrupt  or  to  improve  Morals." 

From  that  moment,  according  to  Rousseau,  a  complete 
change  came  over  him.  Struck  with  sudden  giddiness, 
he  was  like  a  drunken  man.  His  heart  palpitated  and  he 
could  hardly  walk  or  draw  breath.  Throwing  himself  at 
the  foot  of  a  tree,  he  spent  half  an  hour  in  such  agitation 
that  when  he  arose  he  found  the  whole  front  of  his  waist- 
coat wet  with  tears,  although  he  had  not  known  that  he 
was  shedding  any.  Thus  did  his  great  theory  of  the  de- 
generacy of  man  under  civilization  burst  upon  him.^ 

The  very  question  asked  by  the  academy  suggests  the 
possibility  of  an  answer  unfavorable  to  civilization,  but 
Eousseau's  treatment  of  it  was  such  as  to  form  the  begin- 
ning of  an  epoch  in  the  history  of  thought.  It  is  under 
the  rough  coat  of  the  laborer,  he  says,  and  not  under  the 
tinsel  of  the  courtier,  that  strength  and  vigor  of  body  will 
be  found.  Before  art  had  shaped  our  manners,  they  were 
rustic  but  natural,  and  men's  actions  freely  expressed 
their  feelings.  Human  nature  was  no  better,  at  bottom, 
than  now,  but  men  were  safer  because  they  could  more 
easily  read  each  other's  minds,  and  thus  they  avoided 
many  vices.  The  advance  of  civilization  brings  increase 
of  corruption.  Constantinople,  where  learning  was  pre- 
served during  the  dark  ages,  was  full  of  murder,  debauch- 

1  Rousseau,  xviii.  135  (Confessions,  Part.  ii.  liv.  viii)  ;  xix.  358 
(Seconde  Lettre  a,  M.  de  Malesherbes).  Exaggerated  as  the  above  story 
probably  is,  we  may  reasonably  believe  that  it  comes  nearer  the  truth 
than  that  told  by  Diderot  in  after  years,  when  he  and  Rousseau  had 
quarreled.  In  that  version,  Rousseau,  desiring  to  compete  for  the 
prize,  consulted  Diderot  as  to  which  side  he  should  take,  and  was 
advised  to  assume  that  which  other  people  would  avoid.  Diderot, 
(Euvres,  xi.  148.  Rousseau's  thoughts  had  been  wandering  into  sub- 
jects akin  to  that  of  the  prize  essay  before  he  had  seen  the  announce- 
ment in  the  Mercure  de  France.  Musset-Pathay,  ii.  363.  Moreover,  if 
Rousseau  was  imaginative,  and  not  always  to  be  believed  about  facts, 
Diderot  was  a  tremendous  liar. 


ROUSSEAU'S   POLITICAL   WRITINGS.  283 

ery,  and  crime.  Contrast  with  its  inhabitants  those 
primitive  nations  which  have  been  kept  from  the  conta- 
gion of  vain  knowledge :  the  early  Persians,  the  Germans 
described  by  Tacitus,  the  modern  Swiss,  the  American 
Indians,  whose  simple  institutions  Montaigne  prefers  to 
all  the  laws  of  Plato.  These  nations  know  well  that  in 
other  lands  idle  men  spend  their  time  in  disputing  about 
vice  and  virtue,  but  they  have  considered  the  morals  of 
these  argumentative  persons  and  have  learned  to  despise 
their  doctrine. 

"Astronomy  is  born  of  superstition;  eloquence  of  am- 
bition, hatred,  flattery,  and  lying;  geometry  of  avarice; 
physics  of  a  vain  curiosity ;  all,  and  morals  themselves,  of 
human  pride.  The  arts  and  sciences,  therefore,  owe  their 
birth  in  our  vices ;  we  should  have  less  doubt  of  the  ad- 
vantage to  be  derived  from  them  if  they  sprang  from  our 
virtues."  .  .  .  "Answer  me,  illustrious  philosophers,  you 
from  whom  we  know  why  bodies  attract  each  other  in  a 
vacuum ;  what  are  the  relations  of  areas  traversed  in  equal 
times  in  the  revolutions  of  the  planets ;  what  curves  have 
conjugate  points,  points  of  inflection  and  reflection;  how 
man  sees  all  things  in  God ;  how  the  soul  and  body  cor- 
respond without  communication,  as  two  clocks  would  do ; 
what  stars  may  be  inhabited ;  what  insects  reproduce  their 
kind  in  extraordinary  ways,  —  tell  me,  I  say,  you  to 
whom  we  owe  so  much  sublime  knowledge  —  if  you  had 
taught  us  none  of  these  things,  should  we  be  less  numerous, 
less  well-governed,  less  redoubtable,  less  flourishing,  or 
more  perverse?" 

This  is  the  theme  of  the  First  Discourse,  a  theme  most 
congenial  to  the  nature  of  Rousseau.  His  ill-health,  his 
dreamy  habit  of  mind,  his  vanity,  all  made  him  long  for 
a  state  of  things  as  different  as  possible  from  that  about 
him. 

"Among  us,"  he  says,  "it  is  true  that  Socrates  would 
not  have  drunk  the  hemlock ;  but  he  woidd  have  drunk 


284     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

from  a  more  bitter  cup  of  insulting  mockery  and  of  con- 
tempt a  hundred  times  worse  than  death."  Such  sensi- 
tiveness as  this  belongs  to  Rousseau  himself.  With  what 
disdain  would  the  healthy-minded  Socrates  have  laughed 
at  the  suggestion  that  he  was  troubled  by  the  contempt 
or  the  mockery  of  those  about  him.  How  gayly  would  he 
have  turned  the  weapons  of  the  mockers  on  themselves. 
Rousseau  had  neither  the  sense  of  humor  nor  the  joy  of 
living,  which  added  so  much  to  the  greatness  of  the  Athe- 
nian. His  theories  are  especially  pleasing  to  the  disap- 
pointed and  the  weak,  and  therein  lies  their  danger;  for 
they  tend,  not-  to  manly  effort  for  the  improvement  of 
individual  circumstances  or  of  mankind,  but  to  vain 
dreaming  of  impossible  ideals.  There  is  a  luxury  that 
softens,  but  there  is  also  a  luxury  that  causes  labor.  A 
nation  without  astronomy,  or  geography,  or  physics,  is 
generally  less  numerous,  less  redoubtable,  less  flourishing, 
and  sometimes  less  well  governed  than  a  civilized  nation. 
It  is  true  that  in  the  arts  and  sciences,  in  the  deeds  and 
in  the  condition  of  men,  there  is  an  admixture  of  what  is 
base ;  but  there  is  no  baser  nor  more  dangerous  habit  of 
mind  than  that  which  for  every  action  seeks  out  the  worst 
motive,  for  every  state  the  most  selfish  reason.^ 

While  Rousseau's  First  Discourse  is  pernicious  in  its 
general  teaching,  it  is  rich  in  eloquent  passages,  and  it 
contains  some  of  those  sensible  remarks  which  we  seldom 
fail  to  find  in  its  author's  works.  At  the  time  of  writing 
it,  as  later,  he  was  interested  in  education,  —  the  subject 
on  which  his  influence  has  been,  on  the  whole,  most  use- 

1  Long  after  the  publication  of  the  First  Discourse,  Rousseau  in- 
sisted that  he  had  never  intended  to  plunge  civilized  states  into  bar- 
barism, but  only  to  arrest  the  decay  of  primitive  ones,  and  perhaps 
to  retard  that  of  the  more  advanced,  by  changing  their  ideals. 
(Euvres,  xx.  275  (II.  Dialogue) ;  xxi.  34  (III.  Dialogue).  Rousseau's 
writings  generally  must  be  taken  as  expressions  of  feeling,  quite  as 
much  as  attempts  to  change  the  world.  They  are  growls  or  sighs, 
rather  than  sermons. 


ROUSSEAU'S   POLITICAL   WRITINGS. 


285 


ful.  "I  see  on  every  side,"  he  says,  "enormous  estab- 
lishments where  youth  is  brought  up  at  great  expense  to 
learn  everything  but  its  duties.  Your  children  will  be 
ignorant  of  their  own  language,  but  will  speak  others 
which  are  not  in  use  anywhere ;  they  will  know  how  to 
make  verses  which  they  will  hardly  be  able  to  understand 
themselves;  without  knowing  how  to  distinguish  truth 
from  falsehood,  they  will  possess  the  art  of  disguising  both 
from  others  by  specious  arguments;  but  those  words, 
magnanimity,  equity,  temperance,  humanity,  courage, 
will  be  unknown  to  them;  that  sweet  name  of  country  ^ 
will  never  strike  their  ears;  and  if  they  hear  of  God, 
it  will  be  less  to  fear  Him  than  to  be  afraid  of  Him.  'I 
would  as  lief,'  said  a  sage,  Hhat  my  schoolboy  had  spent 
his  time  in  a  tennis-court;  at  least  his  body  would  be 
more  active. '  I  know  that  children  must  be  kept  busy, 
and  that  idleness  is  the  danger  most  to  be  feared  for  them. 
What,  then,  should  they  learn?  A  fine  question  surely! 
Let  them  learn  what  they  must  do  when  they  are  men, 
and  not  what  they  must  forget."  ^ 

The  First  Discourse  not  only  took  the  prize  at  Dijon, 
but  attracted  a  great  deal  of  notice  in  Paris,  and  im- 
mediately gave  Rousseau  a  distinguished  place  among 
men  of  letters.  Controversy  was  excited,  refutations  at- 
tempted. In  1753  the  Academy  of  Dijon  again  offered  a 
prize  for  an  essay  on  a  subject  evidently  connected  with 
the  former  one :  "  What  is  the  Origin  of  Inequality  among 
Men,  and  whether  it  is  authorized  by  Natural  Law." 
Again  Rousseau  competed,  and  this  time  the  prize  was 
given  to  some  one  else,  but  Rousseau's  essay  was  pub- 
lished, and  takes  rank  among  the  important  writings  of 
its  author  and  of  its  time.  In  the  Second  Discourse  we 
see  the  development  of  the  ideas  of  the  First.     Rousseau 

1  Patrie,  —  a  word  seemingly  necessary,  but  which  the  English 
language  manages  to  do  without. 

'-*  Compare  Montaigne,  i.  135  (liv.  i.  chap.  xxv.). 


286     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

composed  an  imaginary  history  of  mankind,  starting  from 
that  being  of  his  own  creation,  the  happy  savage.  He 
thinks  that  man  in  the  primitive  condition,  having  no 
moral  relations  nor  known  duties,  could  be  neither  good 
nor  bad ;  unless  these  words  are  taken  in  a  purely  physical 
sense,  and  those  things  are  called  vices  in  the  individual 
which  may  interfere  with  his  own  preservation,  and  those 
are  called  virtues  which  may  contribute  to  it.  In  this 
case,  Kousseau  believes  that  he  must  be  called  the  most 
virtuous  who  least  resists  the  simple  impulses  of  nature ; 
a  mistake  surely,  for  what  natural  impulses  are  more 
simple  than  those  which  turn  a  man  aside  from  all  sus- 
tained exertion,  and  what  impulses  tend  more  than  these 
to  the  destruction  of  the  individual  and  of  the  species? 

Rousseau's  savage  has  but  few  desires,  and  those  of  the 
simplest,  and  he  is  dependent  on  no  one  for  their  satis- 
faction. In  him  natural  pity  is  awake,  although  obscure, 
while  in  civilized  man  it  is  developed,  but  weak.  The 
Philosopher  will  not  leave  his  bed  although  his  feUow- 
beings  be  slaughtered  under  his  window,  but  will  clap 
his  hands  to  his  ears  and  quiet  himself  with  argmnents. 
The  savage  is  not  so  tranquil,  and  gives  way  to  the  first 
impulse.  In  street  fights  the  populace  assembles  and  pru- 
dent folk  get  out  of  the  way.  It  is  the  rabble  and  the 
fishwives  who  separate  the  combatants,  and  prevent  re- 
spectable people  from  cutting  each  other's  throats.^ 

Love,  he  says,  is  physical  and  moral.  The  physical 
side  is  that  general  desire  which  leads  to  the  union  of  the 
sexes.  The  moral  side  is  that  which  fixes  that  desire  on 
one  exclusive  object,  or  at  least  that  which  gives  the  ex- 

1  Rousseau  says  in  his  Confessions  (CEuvres,  xviii.  205  n.  Part.  ii. 
liv.  viii.),  that  this  heartless  philosopher  was  suggested  to  him  by 
Diderot,  who  abused  his  confidence,  and  gave  his  writings  at  this 
time  a  hard  tone  and  a  black  appearance.  The  abuse  of  confidence 
is  nonsense,  but  the  comic  picture  of  the  philosopher,  with  his  hands 
on  his  ears,  may  well  have  come  from  Diderot.  Kousseau  was  always 
in  deadly  earnest. 


Rousseau's  political  writings.  287 

elusive  desire  a  greater  energy.  Now  it  is  easy  to  see 
that  this  moral  side  of  love  is  a  factitious  feeling,  born  of 
the  usage  of  society,  and  vaunted  by  women  with  much 
skill  and  care  in  order  to  establish  their  empire,  and  to 
give  dominion  to  the  sex  which  ought  to  obey.  This  feel- 
ing is  dull  in  the  savage,  who  has  no  abstract  ideas  of 
regularity  or  beauty ;  he  is  not  troubled  with  imagination, 
which  causes  so  many  woes  to  civilized  man.  "Let  us 
conclude  that  the  savage  man,  wandering  in  forests,  with- 
out manufactures,  without  language,  without  a  home, 
without  war,  and  without  connections,  with  no  need  of  his 
kind,  and  no  desire  to  injure  it,  perhaps  never  recogiiizing 
one  person  individually,  subject  to  few  passions,  and 
sufficient  to  himself,  had  only  the  feeling  and  the  intelli- 
gence proper  to  his  state ;  that  he  felt  only  his  real  needs ; 
he  looked  only  at  those  things  which  he  thought  it  was  for 
his  interest  to  see,  and  his  intelligence  made  no  more  pro- 
gress than  his  vanity.  If,  by  chance,  he  made  some  dis- 
covery, he  could  not  communicate  it,  not  recognizing  even 
his  own  children.  The  art  perished  with  the  inventor. 
There  was  neither  education  nor  progress ;  the  generations 
multiplied  uselessly;  and,  as  all  started  from  the  same 
point,  the  centuries  went  by  with  all  the  rudeness  of  the 
first  age ;  the  species  was  already  old,  and  man  still  re- 
mained a  child." 

Inequalities  among  savage  men  would  be  small.  Those 
which  are  physical  are  often  caused  by  a  hardening  or  an 
eifeminate  life;  those  of  the  mind,  by  education,  which 
not  only  divides  men  into  the  rude  and  the  cultivated, 
but  increases  the  natural  differences  which  nature  has 
allowed  among  the  latter ;  for  if  a  giant  and  a  dwarf  walk 
in  the  same  road,  every  step  they  take  will  separate  them 
more  widely.  And  if  there  are  no  relations  among  men, 
their  inequalities  will  trouble  them  very  little.  "Where 
there  is  no  love,  what  is  the  use  of  beauty?  What  advan- 
tage can  people  who  do  not  speak  derive  from  wit;  or 


288  THE   EVE   OF   THE   FRENCH   REVOLUTION. 

those  who  have  no  dealings  from  craft?  "I  constantly 
hear  it  said,"  cries  Kousseau,  "that  the  strong  will  oppress 
the  weak.  But  explain  to  me  what  is  meant  by  the  word 
"oppression."  Some  men  will  rule  with  violence,  others 
will  groan  in  their  service,  obeying  all  their  caprices. 
This  is  exactly  what  I  observe  among  us;  but  I  do  not  see 
how  it  could  be  said  of  savage  men,  who  could  hardly  be 
made  to  understand  the  meaning  of  servitude  and  domi- 
nation. One  man  may  well  take  away  the  fruit  that  an- 
other has  picked,  the  game  he  has  killed,  the  cave  that 
was  his  shelter ;  but  how  will  he  ever  succeed  in  making 
him  obey?  And  what  can  be  the  chains  of  dependence 
among  men  that  possess  nothing?  If  I  am  driven  from 
one  tree,  I  need  only  go  to  another ;  if  I  am  tormented  in 
any  place,  who  will  prevent  my  moving  elsewhere?  Is 
there  a  man  so  much  stronger  than  I,  and  moreover  so 
depraved,  so  lazy,  and  so  fierce  as  to  compel  me  to  pro- 
vide for  his  maintenance  while  he  remains  idle?  He  must 
make  up  his  mind  not  to  lose  sight  of  me  for  a  single 
moment,  to  have  me  tied  up  with  great  care  while  he  is 
asleep,  for  fear  I  should  escape  or  kill  him ;  that  is  to  say, 
he  is  obliged  to  expose  himself  willingly  to  much  greater 
trouble  than  that  which  he  wishes  to  avoid,  and  than  that 
which  he  gives  me.  And  after  all,  if  his  vigilance  is 
relaxed  for  a  moment,  if  he  turns  his  head  at  a  sudden 
noise,  I  take  twenty  steps  through  the  forest,  my  chains 
are  broken,  and  he  never  sees  me  again  as  long  as  he 
lives." 

Rousseau  recognized  that  his  state  of  nature  was  not 
like  anything  that  had  existed  on  our  planet.^     But  that 

1  This  concession  probably  took  the  form  it  did,  partly  to  satisfy 
the  censor,  or  the  Academy  of  Dijon,  jealous  for  Genesis.  "  Religion 
commands  us  to  believe  that  God  himself  having  removed  men  from 
the  state  of  nature,  immediately  after  the  creation,  they  are  unequal 
because  he  has  vs^illed  that  they  should  be  so."  Such  remarks  as  this 
are  common  in  all  the  writings  of  the  time,  although  less  so  in  those 
of  Rousseau  than  in  those  of  most  of  his  contemporaries.     They  are 


Rousseau's  political  writings.  289 

consideration  troubled  him  not  at  all.  Let  us  begin,  he 
says,  by  putting  aside  all  facts;  they  do  not  touch  the 
question.  This  is  the  constant  practice  of  the  philoso- 
phers of  certain  schools,  but  few  of  them  acknowledge  it 
as  frankly  as  Rousseau.  Had  the  facts  of  human  nature 
and  human  history  been  seriously  considered,  we  should 
have  no  Republic  of  Plato,  no  Utopia  of  More ;  the  world 
would  be  a  very  different  place  from  what  it  is ;  for  these 
cloudy  cities,  the  laws  of  whose  architecture  seem  con- 
trary to  all  the  teachings  of  physics,  yet  gild  with  their 
glory  and  darken  with  their  shadows  the  solid  temples  and 
streets  beneath  them. 

In  the  second  part  of  his  essay,  Rousseau  follows  the 
development  of  human  society.  "The  first  man,"  he  says, 
"who,  having  enclosed  a  piece  of  ground,  undertook  to 
say,  'This  is  mine,'  and  found  people  simple  enough  to 
believe  him,  was  the  true  founder  of  civil  society.  How 
many  crimes,  wars,  murders,  how  much  misery  and  horror 
would  not  he  have  spared  the  human  race,  who,  pulling  up 
the  stakes  or  filling  the  ditch,  should  have  cried  to  his  fel- 
lows, 'Beware  of  listening  to  that  impostor.  You  are 
lost  if  you  forget  that  the  fruits  belong  to  all,  and  the  land 
to  none.'  " 

But  this  benefactor  did  not  make  his  appearance.  Soon 
all  the  land  was  divided  among  a  certain  number  of  occu- 
piers. Those  whose  weakness  or  indolence  had  prevented 
their  getting  a  share  were  obliged  to  sink  into  slavery,  or 
to  rob  their  richer  neighbors.  Then  followed  civil  wars, 
tumult  and  rapine.  At  last  those  who  had  the  land  con- 
ceived the  most  deliberate  plot  that  ever  entered  into  the 
human  mind.  They  persuaded  the  poorer  people  to  join 
with  them  in  establishing  an  association  which  should  de- 
fend all  its  members  and  ensure  to  each  one  the  peaceful 
possession  of  his  property.      "  Such  was  the  origin  of  so- 

evidently  intended  to  satisfy  the  authorities,  and  to  be  simply  over- 
looked by  the  intelligent  reader. 


290  THE   EVE   OF  THE   FRENCH   REVOLUTION. 

ciety  and  laws,  which  gave  new  bonds  to  the  weak,  new 
strength  to  the  rich,  irrevocably  destroyed  natural  liberty, 
established  forever  the  laws  of  property  and  inequality, 
turned  adroit  usurpation  into  settled  right,  and,  for  the 
profit  of  a  few  ambitious  men,  subjected  thenceforth  all 
the  human  race  to  labor,  servitude,  and  misery." 

But  on  the  whole  the  stage  of  development  which  seemed 
to  Rousseau  the  happiest  was  not  the  state  of  complete 
isolation.  He  supposes  that  at  one  time  mankind  had 
assembled  in  herds,  and  had  made  some  simple  inventions. 
A  rude  language  had  been  formed,  huts  were  built.  Men 
had  become  more  fierce  and  cruel  than  at  first.  The  con- 
dition was  intermediate  between  the  indolence  of  the  prim- 
itive state,  and  the  petulant  activity  of  self-love  now  seen 
in  the  world.  This,  he  thought,  was  the  stage  reached 
by  most  savages  known  to  Europeans ;  it  was  the  most 
desirable ;  and  he  remarks  that  no  savage  has  yet  adopted 
civilization,  whereas  many  Frenchmen  have  joined  Indian 
tribes,  and  taken  up  a  savage  mode  of  life. 

In  closing  the  Second  Discourse,  Rousseau  thus  sums 
up  his  conclusions.  "It  follows  from  this  exposition  that 
inequality,  being  almost  nothing  in  the  state  of  nature, 
draws  its  force  and  growth  from  the  development  of  our 
faculties  and  from  the  progress  of  the  human  spirit,  and 
becomes  at  last  stable  and  legal  by  the  establishment  of 
property  and  the  laws.  It  follows  also  that  moral  inequal- 
ity, authorized  by  positive  law  only,  is  contrary  to  natural 
law  whenever  it  does  not  coincide  in  the  same  proportion 
with  physical  inequality ;  a  distinction  which  shows  suffi- 
ciently what  should  be  thought  in  this  respect  of  the  kind 
of  inequality  which  reigns  among  all  civilized  nations, 
since  it  is  manifestly  contrary  to  the  law  of  nature,  how- 
ever defined,  that  a  child  should  command  an  old  man,  a 
fool  lead  a  wise  man,  and  a  handful  of  people  be  glutted 
with  superfluity,  while  the  hungry  multitude  is  in  want 
of  necessaries." 


Rousseau's  political  writings.  291 

The  Discourse  on  Inequality  was  sent  by  Kousseau  to 
Voltaire,  and  drew  forth  a  characteristic  letter  from  the 
pontiff  of  the  Philosophers.      "I  have  received,  sir,  your 
new  book  against  the  human  race.     I  thank  you  for  it. 
You  will  please  the  men  to  whom  you  tell  disagreeable 
truths,  but  you  will  not  correct  them.     It  is  impossible 
to  paint  in  stronger  colors  the  horrors  of  human  society, 
from  which  our  ignorance  and  weakness  promise  them- 
selves so  many  consolations.     No  one  ever  spent  so  much 
wit  in  trying  to  make  us  stupid ;  when  we  read  your  book 
we  feel  like  going  on  aU  fours.     Nevertheless,  as  it  is 
more,  than  sixty  years  since  I  lost  the  habit,  I  am  con- 
scious that  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  take  it  up  again,  and 
I  leave  this  natural  attitude  to  those  who  are  more  worthy 
of  it  than  you  and  I.     Nor  can  I  take  ship  to  go  out  and 
join  the  savages  in  Canada;  first,   because  the  diseases 
which  bear  me  down  oblige  me  to  stay  near  the  greatest 
physician  in  Europe,  and  because  I  should  not  find  the 
same  relief  among  the  Missouris ;  secondly,  because  there 
is  war  in  those  regions,  and  the  example  of  our  nations 
has  made  the  savages  almost  as  cruel  as  we  are."     Vol- 
taire then  goes  on  to  complain  of  his  own  sufferings  as  an 
author,  but  to  vaunt  the  influence  of  letters.     It  is  not 
Petrarch  and  Boccaccio,  he  says,  that  made  the  wars  of 
Italy ;  the  pleasantries  of  Marot  did  not  cause  the  massacre 
of  Saint  Bartholomew's  Day;  nor  the  tragedy  of  the  Cid 
produce  the  riots  of   the   Fronde.      Great   crimes   have 
generally  been  committed  by  ignorant  great  men.     It  is 
the  insatiable  cupidity,  the  indomitable  pride  of  mankind, 
which  have  made  this  world  a  vale  of  tears ;  from  Thamas 
Kouli-Kan,  who  could  not  read,  to  the  custom-house  clerk, 
who  only  knows  how  to  cipher.^ 

This  letter  is  neither  very  complimentary  nor  very  con- 
clusive in  its  treatment  of  Rousseau's  position,  but  it  may 
be  said  to  mark  his  official  reception  into  the  guild  of  lit- 
1  August  30,  1755.     Voltaire,  Ivi.  714. 


292     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

erary  men.  He  was  presently  engaged  in  new  work.  He 
wrote  an  article  on  Political  Economy  for  the  great  "En- 
cyclopaedia," in  wliicli,  reversing  tlie  teaching  of  the  Sec- 
ond Discourse,  he  maintains  that  "it  is  certain  that  the 
right  of  property  is  the  most  sacred  of  all  the  rights  of  cit- 
izens, and  more  important  in  some  respects  than  liberty 
itself ;  either  because  it  more  closely  concerns  the  preser- 
vation of  life,  or  because,  property  being  easier  to  take 
away  and  harder  to  defend  than  persons,  that  should  be 
most  respected  which  is  most  easily  ravished ;  or  again,  be- 
cause property  is  the  true  foundation  of  civil  society,  and 
the  true  guarantee  of  the  engagements  of  the  citizens ;  for 
if  property  did  not  answer  for  persons,  nothing  would  be 
so  easy  as  to  elude  duties  and  to  laugh  at  the  laws."  ^  And 
further  on,  in  the  same  article,  he  calls  property  the  foun- 
dation of  the  social  compact,  whose  first  condition  is  that 
every  one  be  maintained  in  the  peaceful  enjoyment  of  what 
belongs  to  him.  We  must  not  wonder  at  seeing  Rous- 
seau thus  change  sides  from  day  to  day.  A  dreamer  and 
not  a  philosophic  thinker,  he  perceived  some  truths  and 
uttered  many  sophistries,  speaking  always  with  the  fire  of 
conviction  and  a  fatal  eloquence. 

It  is  needless  to  enter  into  the  detail  of  Rousseau's  life 
at  this  time,  the  time  when  his  most  remarkable  work  was 
done.  Labor  was  always  painful  and  irritating  to  him, 
and  it  was  perhaps  the  irksomeness  of  his  tasks  that  drove 
him  into  something  not  unlike  madness.^  Yet  he  kept 
on  writing  with  enthusiasm.  He  speaks  of  himself  as 
moved  in  these  years  by  the  contemplation  of  great  objects ; 
ridiculously  hoping  to  bring  about  the  triumph  of  reason 

1  Rousseau,  CEuvres,  xii.  41. 

2  There  is  little  doubt  that  Rousseau  was  at  one  time  really  insane, 
subject  to  the  delusion  that  he  was  being  persecuted.  His  insanity 
did  not  become  very  marked  until  the  time  of  the  real  persecutions 
undergone  after  the  publication  of  Emile.  See  his  Biographies  and 
Le  Docteur  Chatelain,  La  folie  de  J.  J .  Rousseau,  Paris,  1890.     He 


Rousseau's  political  writings.  293 

and  truth  over  prejudice  and  lies,  and  to  make  men  wiser 
by  showing  them  their  true  interests.  He  learned  at  this 
time,  he  says,  to  meditate  profoundly,  and  for  a  moment 
astonished  Europe  by  productions  in  which  vulgar  souls 
saw  only  eloquence  and  wit,  but  in  which  those  persons 
who  inhabit  ethereal  regions  joyfully  recognized  one  of 
their  own  kind.^ 

The  best  known  and  probably  the  most  important  of 
Rousseau's  political  writings  is  the  "Contrat  Social,"  or 
"Social  Compact,"  which  followed  the  Second  Discourse 
after  an  interval  of  eight  years,  thus  coming  out  near  the 
end  of  the  period  of  its  author's  greatest  literary  activity. 
In  this  essay,  which  is  intended  to  be  but  a  fragment  of  a 
larger  work  on  government,  Rousseau  lays  down  the  con- 
ditions which  should,  as  he  thinks,  govern  the  lives  of 
men  united  to  form  a  true  state.  Indeed,  he  believes 
that  any  government  not  founded  on  these  principles  is 
illegitimate,  resting  merely  on  force  and  not  on  right.  A 
nation  thus  wrongly  governed  is  but  an  aggregation,  not 
an  association.     It  is  without  public  weal  or  body  politic. 

There  was  nothing  original  with  Rousseau  in  the  idea 
of  a  social  compact.  That  idea  may  be  traced  in  the 
writings  of  Plato,  who  speaks  of  it  as  one  already  familiar. 
But  it  did  not  become  a  leading  doctrine  with  writers  on 
politics  until  the  publication  of  Hooker's  "Ecclesiastical 
Polity"  in  1594.  In  that  book  it  was  contended  that 
there  is  no  escape  from  the  anarchy  which  exists  before 
the  establishment  of  law,  but  by  men  "growing  into  com- 
position and  agreement  amongst  themselves,  by  ordaining 
some  kind  of  government  public,  and  yielding  themselves 

was,  of  course,  always  eccentric  and  ill  balanced;  and  was  often 
rendered  irritable  by  a  painful  disease,  caused  by  a  malformation  of 
the  bladder.  Morley,  Rousseau,  i.  277,  etc.  (Euvres,  xviii.  155 
{Conf.  Part.  ii.  liv.  viii.). 

^  Rousseau,  (Euvres,  xx.  275  (II.  Dialogue). 


294     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

subject  thereunto."  Through  the  seventeenth  century  the 
theory  grew  and  flourished.  It  was  treated  as  the  foun- 
dation of  absolute  government  by  Hobbes,  of  free  govern- 
ment by  Locke;  it  was  recognized  by  Grotius.  It  re- 
ceived its  embodiment  in  the  cabin  of  the  Mayflower, 
when  the  Pilgrims  did  solemnly  and  mutually,  in  the 
presence  of  God  and  one  another,  covenant  and  combine 
themselves  together  into  a  civil  body  politic.  By  the 
time  of  Rousseau  the  social  compact  had  become  one  of 
the  commonplaces  of  political  thought.  ^  Men  recognized, 
more  or  less  vaguely,  that  in  the  case  of  most  countries 
no  definite  solemn  agreement  could  actually  be  shown  to 
have  been  made,  but  in  their  inability  to  find  the  record 
of  such  a  contract  writers  were  willing  to  assume  one, 
express  or  implied.  What,  then,  were  the  exact  condi- 
tions of  the  compact  ?  Rousseau  put  the  question  as  fol- 
lows: "To  find  a  form  of  association  which  shall  protect 
with  all  the  common  strength  the  person  and  property  of 
each  associate,  and  by  which  each  one,  uniting  himself  to 
all,  may  yet  obey  only  himself  and  remain  as  free  as  be- 
fore." And  he  undertook  to  solve  the  problem  by  pro- 
posing "the  total  alienation  of  every  associate,  with  all 
his  rights,  to  the  whole  community,"  which  he  supported 
by  saying  that,  as  every  one  gave  himself  up  entirely,  the 
condition  was  equal  for  all ;  and  that  as  the  condition  was 
equal  for  aU,  no  one  was  interested  in  making  it  onerous 
for  others. 

It  will  be  noticed  that  there  is  a  variation  between  the 
thing  sought  and  the  thing  found.  Rousseau,  having 
promised  that  each  man  shall  obey  only  himseK,  presently 
puts  us  off  with  a  condition  equal  for  all.  That  is  to 
say,  instead  of  liberty  we  are  given  equality.     The  dif- 

1  See  a  history  of  the  social  compact  in  A.  Lawrence  Lowell, 
Essays  on  Government.  Plato,  ii.  229  (The  Republic,  Book  ii.).  Hooker, 
i.  241.  Uohhes,  Leviathan,  passim.  Locke,  \.  SSS  (Of  Civil  Govern- 
mentf  §  87).     Morton's  New  England's  Memorial,  37. 


ROUSSEAU'S   POLITICAL  WRITINGS.  295 

ference  is  one  generally  recognized  by  Anglo-Saxons  and 
often  invisible  to  Continentals.  It  was  seldom  seen  by 
Frenelimen  in  the  eighteenth  century.  This  confusion 
of  thought  was  a  cause  of  many  of  the  troubles  of  the 
French  Revolution.  We  shall  see  that  Rousseau,  who 
had  been  carried  by  the  love  of  liberty  beyond  the  verge 
of  the  ridiculous  in  his  Discourses,  was  brought  back,  in 
his  "Social  Compact,"  by  his  love  of  equality,  so  far  as 
to  become  the  advocate  of  an  intolerable  tyranny,  yet  was 
quite  unaware  that  he  was  inconsistent.  He  composed, 
in  fact,  a  description  of  liberty  strangely  compounded  of 
truth  and  falsehood.  He  reckoned  that  man  to  be  free 
who  was  not  under  the  control  of  any  person,  but  only  of 
the  law,  and  then  he  provided  for  the  most  arbitrary  and 
capricious  kind  of  law-making. 

The  first  task  of  Rousseau,  after  settling  the  conditions 
of  his  compact,  is  to  provide  a  sovereign  power  in  the 
state.  This  he  finds  in  the  association  of  the  citizens 
united,  as  above  described,  in  a  body  politic.  This  sover- 
eign cannot  be  bound  by  its  own  actions  or  resolves,  except 
in  case  of  an  agreement  with  strangers,  for  none  can 
make  a  contract  with  himself.  By  the  original  compact 
the  action  of  the  individual  citizens  as  independent  agents 
was  exhausted.  They  can  act  henceforth  only  as  parts 
of  the  whole.  There  is  no  contract  possible  between  one 
or  several  of  them  and  the  community  of  which  they  form 
a  part.^  The  sovereign  must  not,  however,  act  directly 
on  individuals,  for  in  so  doing  it  would  represent  a  part 
only  of  the  community  acting  on  another  part,  and  it 
would  thus  lose  its  moral  right.  It  must  act  in  general 
matters  exclusively,  by  means  of  general  decrees,  which 

1  In  an  epitome  of  the  Social  Compact,  inserted  by  Rousseau  in  the 
fifth  book  of  Emile,  he  thus  defines  the  terms  of  that  compact.  "  Each 
of  us  puts  into  a  common  stock  his  property,  his  person,  his  life  and 
all  his  power,  under  the  supreme  direction  of  the  general  will,  and 
we  receive  as  a  body  each  member  as  an  indivisible  part  of  the  whole." 
(EuvreSy  y.  254. 


296     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

only  can  properly  be  called  laws.  "Now  the  sovereign, 
being  made  up  only  of  the  individuals  which  compose  it, 
has  and  can  have  no  interest  opposed  to  theirs ;  therefore 
the  sovereign  power  need  not  provide  its  subject  with  any 
guarantee,  because  it  is  impossible  that  the  body  should 
wish  to  injure  its  members,"  and  as  the  nature  of  its 
action  is  general  and  not  particular,  it  cannot  injure  one 
individual  without  doing  harm  to  all  the  others  at  the 
same  time.  "The  sovereign,  by  the  very  fact  of  its  ex- 
istence, is  always  what  it  ought  to  be." 

The  general  will  is  always,  right  and  always  tends  to 
public  utility,  says  Kousseau,  but  it  does  not  follow  that 
the  decisions  of  the  people  are  always  equally  correct. 
Man  always  wills  his  own  good,  but  does  not  always  see 
it.  The  people  is  never  corrupt,  but  often  deceived,  and 
in  the  latter  case  only  does  it  seem  to  will  what  is  evil.  If 
there  were  no  parties  in  the  state,  the  people,  if  suffi- 
ciently informed,  would  always  vote  rightly,  for  the  little 
differences  in  private  interests  would  balance  each  other, 
and  the  resulting  average  woidd  be  the  general  will.  But 
through  parties  and  associations  this  result  is  prevented. 
A  nation  may  change  its  laws  when  it  pleases,  even  the 
best  of  them ;  for  if  it  likes  to  hurt  itseK,  who  has  the 
right  to  say  it  nay  ? 

Sovereignty  is  inalienable,  for  power  is  transmissible, 
but  not  will.  Sovereignty  consists  essentially  in  the  gen- 
eral will,  and  the  general  will  cannot  be  represented.  It  is 
the  same,  or  it  is  other;  there  is  no  intermediate  point. 
The  deputies  of  the  people  cannot  be  its  representatives ; 
they  can  only  be  its  agents;  they  can  conclude  nothing 
definitely.  Any  law  that  the  people  has  not  ratified  in 
its  assembly  is  null;  it  is  not  a  law.  The  English  nation 
thinks  itself  free.  It  is  much  mistaken.  It  is  free  only 
during  the  election  of  members  of  Parliament.  As  soon 
as  these  are  elected  the  nation  is  enslaved ;  it  is  nothing. 
Sovereignty  is    indivisible,   its    powers    being  legislative 


ROUSSEAU'S   POLITICAL  WRITINGS.  297 

only,  and  the  executive  function  of  the  state  being  but 
its  emanation. 

Such  being  the  essential  conditions  of  the  social  com- 
pact, what  are  the  states  to  which  it  maybe  applied? 
Although  Rousseau  gives  many  directions  for  the  govern- 
ment of  larger  countries,  we  see  that  his  system  is  truly 
applicable  only  to  nations  so  small  that  the  whole  body 
of  voters  can  be  united  in  one  meeting.  These  popular 
assemblies,  he  says,  should  be  held  frequently,  at  times 
fixed  by  law  and  independent  of  any  summons,  and  also 
at  irregular  times  when  needed.  Let  no  one  object  that 
such  frequent  meetings  would  take  up  too  much  time. 
He  answers  that  "as  soon  as  the  public  service  ceases  to 
be  the  principal  business  of  the  citizens,  and  they  prefer 
to  serve  with  their  purses  rather  than  with  their  persons, 
the  state  is  already  near  to  ruin.  If  it  be  necessary  to 
march  to  battle,  they  pay  soldiers  and  stay  at  home ;  if  it 
be  necessary  to  attend  the  council,  they  choose  deputies 
and  stay  at  home.  By  laziness  and  money  they  have  at 
last  got  troops  to  enslave  their  country  and  representatives 
to  betray  her." 

The  only  law  that  requires  unanimity  is  the  social  com- 
pact itseK.  When  that  is  once  formed,  each  citizen  con- 
sents to  every  law,  even  to  those  which  are  passed  in  spite 
of  him.  When  a  law  is  proposed  in  the  assembly  of  the 
people,  the  question  is  not  exactly  whether  the  proposal 
is  approved  or  rejected,  but  whether  it  is  in  accordance 
with  the  general  will,  which  is  the  will  of  the  people. 
Every  man  by  his  vote  declares  his  opinion  on  that  point, 
and  by  counting  the  votes  the  declaration  of  the  general 
will  is  ascertained.  When,  therefore,  the  opinion  which 
is  opposed  to  mine  prevails,  it  proves  nothing  more  than 
that  I  was  mistaken,  and  that  what  I  took  to  be  the  gen- 
eral will  was  not  so.  If  my  private  opinion  had  carried 
the  day  against  the  general  wdll,  I  should  have  done  what 
I  did  not  wish ;  and  then  I  should  not  have  been  free. 


298  THE   EVE   OF   THE   FRENCH   REVOLUTION. 

It  has  been  said  that  the  sovereign  must  not  act  in  par- 
ticular cases.  To  do  so  would  be  to  confound  law  and 
fact,  and  thebody  politic  would  soon  be  a  prey  to  violence. 
It  is,  therefore,  necessary  to  institute  an  executive  branch, 
which  Rousseau  calls  indifferently  government  or  prince, 
explaining  that  the  latter  word  may  be  used  collectively. 
But,  differing  in  this  from  older  writers,  he  denies  that 
the  establishment  of  an  executive  power  gives  rise  to  any 
contract  between  the  body  of  the  people  and  the  persons 
appointed  to  govern.  He  considers  these  persons  to  be 
intermediate  between  the  nation  considered  as  sovereign, 
and  the  people  considered  as  subject,  and  to  hold  but  a 
delegated  power.  In  this  opinion,  Rousseau  has  been 
followed  by  most  liberal  governments  instituted  since  his 
day.  But  he  carries  this  theory  much  farther  than  it  is 
safe  to  do  in  practice.  The  sovereign,  he  says,  may  at 
any  moment  revoke  the  powers  of  its  agents,  and  the  first 
act  of  every  public  assembly  should  be  to  answer  these 
two  questions:  first,  whether  it  pleases  the  sovereign  to 
maintain  the  present  form  of  government;  and  second, 
whether  it  pleases  the  people  to  leave  the  administration 
to  those  persons  who  now  exercise  it. 

The  chapters  on  the  form  of  government  are  far  less 
important  than  those  on  sovereignty.  Rousseau  recog- 
nized democracy,  aristocracy,  and  monarchy  as  applicable 
respectively  to  small,  middle-sized,  and  large  states.  He 
says  that  democracy  is  the  most  difficult  form  to  manage, 
requiring  for  its  perfect  working  a  state  so  small  that 
every  citizen  can  know  every  other  personally,  and  also 
great  simplicity  of  manners,  great  equality  of  ranks  and 
fortunes,  and  little  luxury.  This  applies,  of  course,  only 
to  democracy  in  its  extreme  form,  in  which  the  people  ex- 
ercises all  the  functions  of  government  without  delegating 
any  of  them.  Rousseau's  preference  was  for  what  he 
calls  aristocracy,  a  government  of  the  most  wise  and  ex- 
perienced.    The  first  societies,  he  says,  were  thus  gov* 


ROUSSEAU'S    POLITICAL   WRITINGS.  299 

ernecl,  and  the  American  Indians  are  so  governed  still. 
It  is  noticeable  that  the  Indians  take  in  the  works  of 
Rousseau  a  place  similar  to  that  taken  by  the  Chinese  in 
those  of  Voltaire;  they  are  distant  people,  living  in  an 
ideal  condition.  The  freedom  of  the  savage,  the  literary 
civilization  of  the  Oriental,  were  held  up  to  admiration 
by  these  two  writers,  diametrically  opposed  in  their  way 
of  looking  at  life,  but  similar  in  their  utter  want  of  com- 
prehension of  all  that  was  not  European  and  contempo- 
rary. Next  after  the  government  of  the  sages  and  the 
elders  Rousseau  placed  elective  government,  which,  in 
common  with  some  other  abstract  writers,  he  classes  as 
aristocratic.  An  hereditary  aristocracy  he  calls  the  worst 
of  all  governments.  He  intimated  that  his  remedy  for 
the  weakness  of  small  countries,  as  against  foreign  ene- 
mies, would  be  found  in  federation,  but  he  postponed  the 
discussion  of  this  subject  to  a  larger  treatise,  which  was 
never  written.^ 

Rousseau  pointed  out  very  forcibly  the  incompatibility 
with  civil  government  of  a  religion  depending  on  a  priest- 
hood whose  organization  extends  beyond  the  territory  of 
the  country  itself  and  forms  a  body  politic.  Yet  he  did 
not  propose  to  apply  the  only  true  remedy  for  this  condi- 
tion of  things,  which  is  the  complete  separation  of  church 

1  Rousseau  has  himself  given  two  summaries  of  the  Social  Com- 
pact ;  one  very  short,  in  the  Sixth  Letter  from  the  Mountain 
(CEuvres,  vii.  378).  This  was  written  after  the  condemnation  of  the 
book  by  the  authorities  of  Geneva,  and  he  points  out  in  his  remon- 
strance that  he  has  taken  Geneva  as  the  model  state,  in  the  Social 
Compact.  The  other  summary,  much  fuller,  is  in  the  fifth  book  of 
Emile  ((Euvres,  v.  248).  Here  we  find  the  following  growl  at  the 
whole  social  order:  "Nous  examinerons  si  Ton  n'a  pas  fait  trop  ou 
trop  pen  dans  I'institution  sociale.  Si  les  individus  soumis  aux 
loix  et  aux  hommes,  tandis  que  les  socidtds  gardent  entre  elles 
I'ind^pendance  de  la  nature,  ne  restent  pas  exposes  aux  maux  des  deux 
etats  sans  en  avoir  les  avantages,  et  s'il  ne  vaudrait  pas  mieux  qu'il 
n'y  eut  point  de  socidtd  civile  au  monde  que  d'y  en  avoir  plusieurs." 


300     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

and  state,  combined  with  liberty  of  speech  both  for  the 
clergy  and  the  laity.  He  recognized  as  possible  only  three 
sorts  of  religion,  of  which  the  first,  without  temples,  altars, 
or  rites,  confined  inwardly  to  the  worship  of  God  and  ex- 
ternally to  the  moral  duties,  was,  as  he  thought,  the  pure 
and  simple  religion  of  the  Gospels,  the  true  theism,  and 
miofht  be  called  the  natural  divine  law.  The  next  is  a 
national  religion,  belonging  to  one  country.  It  has  its 
gods,  its  rites,  its  altars,  all  within  its  own  land,  outside 
of  which  everything  is  infidel,  strange,  and  barbarian. 
Man's  duties  extend  no  farther  than  the  boundaries  of  his 
own  country.  Such  were  the  religions  of  the  early  nations. 
The  third  kind  gives  to  its  votaries  two  systems  of  legis- 
lation, two  chiefs,  two  homes,  makes  them  submit  to  con- 
tradictory duties,  prevents  their  being  at  once  devout 
worshipers  and  good  citizens.  Such  a  religion  is  the 
Roman  Catholic. 

The  Roman  clergy,  he  says,  is  united,  not  by  its  formal 
assemblies,  but  by  communion  and  excommunication, 
which  are  its  social  compact,  and  by  means  of  which  it 
will  always  retain  the  mastery  over  kings  and  nations. 
All  the  priests  who  are  in  communion  are  citizens, 
although  at  the  ends  of  the  earth.  This  invention  is  a 
masterpiece  of  politics. 

On  some  religion  our  author  believes  that  the  state  has 
a  right  to  insist.  There  is  a  purely  civil  profession  of 
faith,  whose  articles  the  sovereign  may  fix,  not  exactly  as 
dogmas  of  religion,  but  as  principles  of  sociability.  These 
must  be  few,  simple  and  clear,  and  announced  without 
explanation  or  commentary.  The  existence  of  a  deity, 
powerful,  intelligent,  beneficent,  foreseeing,  and  provid- 
ing ;  the  life  to  come,  with  the  happiness  of  the  good  and 
the  punishment  of  the  wicked ;  the  sacredness  of  the  Social 
Compact  and  of  the  laws, —  these  are  the  positive  dogmas. 
Of  things  forbidden  there  should  be  but  one :  intolerance. 
Whosoever  says  that  there  is  no  salvation  but  in  the 


ROUSSEAU'S   POLITICAL   WRITINGS.  301 

church  should  be  driven  from  the  state ;  for  such  teach- 
ino-  is  dangerous  to  the  sovereign,  except,  indeed,  in  a 
theocracy.  Any  one  who  does  not  hold  to  the  simple  creed 
above  described  may  properly  be  banished,  not  as  impi- 
ous, but  as  unsociable,  incapable  of  loving  justice  and 
the  laws  sincerely,  or  of  sacrificing  his  life  to  his  duty. 
And  if  any  one,  after  having  publicly  accepted  these  dog- 
mas, behaves  as  if  he  did  not  believe  them,  let  him  be 
put  to  death;  he  has  committed  the  greatest  of  crimes; 
he  has  lied  before  the  laws. 

In  the  short  essay  on  the  Social  Compact,  Rousseau  has 
brought  together,  as  we  have  seen,  several  of  the  most 
dangerous  errors  which  have  afflicted  modern  society. 
The  people,  according  to  him,  is  not  only  all  powerful, 
but  always  righteous ;  sometimes  deceived,  but  never  cor- 
rupt. Why  the  whole  community  should  be  better  or 
wiser  than  the  best  of  the  persons  who  compose  it;  why 
our  errors  should  balance  or  counteract  each  other  and 
our  virtues  not  do  so,  Eousseau  probably  never  asked 
himself ;  or  if  the  question  occurred  to  his  mind,  he  dis- 
missed it  with  a  merely  specious  answer.  There  is  hardly 
a  limit  to  the  tyranny  which  he  allows  to  the  multitude. 
The  individual  citizen  is  made  free  from  the  interference 
of  a  single  master  only  that  he  may  be  the  more  depend- 
ent on  that  corporate  despot  who  is  to  control  his  every 
action  and  his  very  thoughts.  Manners,  customs,  above 
all  public  opinion,  are  declared  to  be  the  most  important 
of  laws.  Individuality  is,  therefore,  to  be  absolutely  ban- 
ished. Nor  is  security  provided  for.  It  is  the  advantage 
of  a  stationary  system  tliat  a  man  may  know  this  year 
what  the  world  will  expect  of  him  ten  years  hence  and 
may  lay  his  plans  accordingly.  Human  laws  may  some- 
times be  pardoned  for  being  as  inflexible  as  the  laws  of 
physics  if  they  are  as  surely  to  be  relied  on.  But  Rous- 
seau, while  hoping  that  his  state  will  change  very  little, 


302  THE   EVE   OF  THE   FRENCH   REVOLUTION. 

carefully  reserves  for  his  tyrant  the  right  to  be  capricious. 
And  lest  that  right  should  ever  be  forgotten  he  takes  care 
that  the  whole  form  of  government  shall  be  brought  in 
question  at  every  public  meeting.  What  the  multitude  has 
to-day  decided  it  may  reverse  to-morrow.  The  unfortu- 
nate citizen  is  not  left  even  the  right  to  protest.  The 
general  will,  when  once  proved  by  the  popular  vote,  is 
his  own  will.  The  very  desires  of  his  heart  must  loyally 
follow  the  changing  caprices  of  his  many-headed  master. 

Yet  here  as  elsewhere  Rousseau  has  joined  a  noble  con- 
ception to  a  base  one.  The  law,  once  promulgated  by  the 
sovereign  power,  is  to  be  universal  throughout  the  state 
and  superior  to  all  human  rulers.  The  idea  was  not 
novel,  but  it  was  well  that  it  should  again  be  distinctly 
formulated. 

It  is  quite  in  accordance  with  the  general  spirit  of  the 
essay  that  while  intolerance  is  said  to  be  the  only  religious 
crime,  it  is  in  fact  the  foundation  of  the  whole  ecclesias- 
tical system  of  the  republic.  Whoever  dares  to  say  that 
there  is  no  salvation  outside  of  the  church  is  to  be  driven 
from  the  state.  By  this  means  Rousseau  would  have  ex- 
iled nearly  every  Christian  of  the  eighteenth  century. 
On  the  other  hand,  whoever  doubts  the  existence  of  God, 
His  providence,  and  His  rewards  and  punishments,  is  to 
be  treated  in  the  same  manner.  Some  of  the  Philosophers 
of  the  age  are  thus  excluded.  Verily,  few  are  the  just 
that  remain,  and  Rousseau  is  quite  right  in  his  opinion 
that  those  who  distinguish  between  civil  and  theological 
intolerance  are  mistaken.  In  his  system,  at  least,  the 
two  are  closely  connected. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 
"la  nouvelle  iieloise"  and  "emile." 

It  was  not  alone  by  his  political  writings  that  Jean 
Jacques  Rousseau  exercised  a  great  influence  over  Europe. 
Of  all  his  books,  the  two  which  are  perhaps  most  famous 
take  the  form  of  loose  and  disjointed  fiction,  and  deal  not 
with  government,  but  with  life,  passion,  society,  and  ed- 
ucation. Yet  the  characters  of  "La  Nouvelle  Heloise," 
and  of  "Emile,"  are  not  mere  frames  of  scarecrows  clothed 
with  abstract  qualities  and  fine  sentiments.  Saint-Preux, 
Emile  and  the  Tutor,  Julie,  Sophie,  Claire,  and  Lord  Ed- 
ward Bomston  are  live  persons,  whom  the  reader  may  like 
or  dislike.  In  the  first  three  Rousseau  would  seem  to  have 
incorporated  himself,  and  the  result  is  interesting,  but  re- 
pulsive. In  Julie  we  have  Jean  Jacques'  ideal  woman, 
a  being  of  a  noble  nature,  tinged  and  defiled  with  some- 
thing low  and  morbid ;  but  Clair^  and  Sophie  seem  taken 
only  from  observation,  not  introspection,  and  although  far 
from  faultless  are  often  charming. 

"La  Nouvelle  Heloise"  is  a  novel  written  in  letters,  a 
form  of  writing  more  tedious  than  any  other.  But  it 
should  be  remembered  that  in  the  early  days  of  fiction 
novels  were  so  few  that  to  occupy  a  long  time  in  the  read- 
ing was  not  an  impediment  to  the  popularity  of  one  of 
them.  If  we  may  believe  Rousseau,  the  "New  Heloisa  " 
produced  a  great  sensation.  All  Paris  was  impatient  for 
its  appearance.  When  at  last  it  was  published,  men  of 
letters  were  divided  in  opinion,  but  society  was  unani- 
mous in  its  praise,  and  women  were  so  much  delighted 
with  it  that  there  were  few  even  of  hi^h  rank  whose  con- 


304     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

quest  the  author  might  not  have  achieved  had  he  chosen 
to  undertake  it.  While  making  due  allowance  for  the 
morbid  vanity  of  Jean  Jacques,  we  may  entirely  believe 
him  when  he  says  that  the  book  captivated  the  reading 
public.  One  lady,  he  tells  us,  had  dressed  after  supper 
for  the  ball  at  the  Opera  House,  and  sat  down  to  read  the 
new  novel  while  waiting  for  the  time  to  go.  At  midnight 
she  ordered  her  carriage,  but  did  not  put  down  the  book. 
The  coach  came  to  the  door,  but  she  kept  on.  At  two 
her  servants  warned  her  of  the  hour.  She  answered  that 
there  was  no  hurry.  At  four  she  undressed,  and  continued 
to  read  for  the  rest  of  the  night.  On  the  first  appearance 
of  the  story  the  booksellers  used  to  let  out  copies  at  twelve 
sous  the  hour.^  To-day  its  charm  is  gone.  Few  indeed 
are  the  works  of  pure  literature  which  are  read  a  hundred 
years  after  publication,  except  by  the  authors  of  literary 
histories  and  the  unfortunate  pupils  of  injudicious  school- 
mistresses (and  the  "New  Heloisa"  will  not  form  a  part 
of  any  scheme  of  female  education) ;  but  a  good  style  and 
a  true  enthusiasm  may  lighten  the  task  even  of  these  suf- 
ferers. 

It  is  a  singular  fact  that  in  some  matters  of  feeling  no 
age  seems  so  far  from  our  own  as  that  of  our  great-grand- 
fathers. The  lovers  of  the  Middle  Ages  and  of  the  six- 
teenth century  appear  to  us  natural  and  healthy  beings. 
Those  of  the  eio^hteenth  seem  sentimental  and  foolish. 
In  the  case  of  Kousseau's  great  novel  this  effect  is  in- 
creased by  the  morbid  strain  of  the  author's  mind.  With 
him  all  passion  tends  to  assume  unhealthy  shapes,  and  the 
very  breezes  of  Lake  Leman  come  laden  with  close  and 
sickly  odors. 

It  is  not  worth  while  to  deal  here  with  the  story  of  the 

"New  Heloisa," — a  story  of  illicit  passion  in  the  first 

part;  and  in  the  second,  of  the  happy  marriage  of  the 

heroine  to  a  man  who  is  not  her  lover.     The  visit  paid  by 

1  Rousseau,  xix.  101  {Confessions,  liv.  xi.). 


LA   NOUVELLE   HELOISE   AND   EMILE.  305 

that  lover  to  his  old  mistress  and  her  husband  in  their 
home  at  Clarens,  with  all  the  trials  of  virtue  which  it  in- 
volves, is  a  disagreeable  piece  of  sentimentality.  The 
members  of  the  trio  fall  on  each  other's  necks  with  un- 
pleasant frequency  and  fervor.  But  the  picture  of  that 
home  itself,  with  its  well-ordered  housekeeping,  its  liberal- 
ity and  its  plainness,  is  interesting  and  attractive.  "  Since 
the  masters  of  this  house  have  taken  it  for  their  dwelling, 
they  have  turned  to  their  use  all  that  served  only  for  orna- 
ment ;  it  is  no  longer  a  house  made  to  be  seen,  but  to  be 
lived  in.  They  have  built  up  the  long  lines  of  doors  by 
which  rooms  opened  one  out  of  another,  and  made  new 
doorways  in  convenient  places ;  they  have  cut  up  rooms  that 
were  too  large,  and  improved  the  arrangement ;  they  have 
substituted  simple  and  convenient  furniture  for  what  was 
old  and  expensive.  Everything  is  agreeable  and  smiling, 
everything  breathes  abundance  and  cleanliness;  nothing 
shows  costliness  or  luxury;  there  is  no  room  where  you 
do  not  feel  yourseK  in  the  country  and  where  you  do  not 
find  all  the  conveniences  of  town.  The  same  changes  are 
'noticeable  outside;  the  poultry -yard  has  been  enlarged  at 
the  expense  of  the  carriage-house.  In  the  place  of  an  old 
broken-down  billiard-table  they  have  built  a  fine  wine- 
press, and  they  have  got  rid  of  some  screeching  peacocks 
to  make  room  for  a  dairy.  The  kitchen  garden  was  too 
small  for  the  kitchen;  a  second  one  has  been  made  of  the 
parterre,  but  so  neat  and  so  well  laid  out  that  thus  trans- 
formed it  is  more  pleasing  to  the  eye  than  before.  Good 
espaliers  have  been  substituted  for  the  doleful  yews  that 
covered  the  wall.  Instead  of  the  useless  horse-chestnut 
tree,  young  black  mulberries  are  beginning  to  shade  the 
courtyard,  and  two  rows  of  walnut  trees,  running  to  the 
road,  have  been  planted  in  place  of  the  old  lindens  which 
bordered  the  avenue.  Everywhere  the  useful  has  been 
substituted  for  the  agreeable,  and  almost  everywhere  the 
agreeable  has  gained  by  it."    The  description  is  masterly, 


306     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

but  we  cannot  quite  forgive  Rousseau  for  sacrificing  the 
horse -chestnut  and  the  lindens.  ^ 

But  not  quite  all  the  land  is  treated  in  this  utilitarian 
manner.  The  heroine  has  an  "Elysium."  This  place 
is  near  the  house,  but  separated  from  the  rest  of  the 
grounds  by  a  thick  hedge.  It  is  full  of  native  plants 
forming  a  deep  shade,  yet  the  ground  is  covered  with 
grass  like  velvet,  and  flowers  spring  up  on  all  sides. 
Vines  climb  from  tree  to  tree,  rooted,  it  may  be,  in  the 
trunks  of  the  trees  themselves.  A  stream  of  clear  water 
meanders  through  the  place,  sometimes  divided  into  sev- 
eral channels,  sometimes  united  in  one,  rippling  here  over 
a  bed  of  gravel,  there  reflecting  the  trees  and  the  sky.  A 
colony  of  birds,  protected  from  all  disturbance,  charms 
the  solitude  with  song.  Nature  is  here  encouraged,  not 
thwarted ;  little  is  left  to  the  gardener ;  much  to  the  in- 
telligent and  loving  care  of  the  mistress. 

The  account  of  the  garden  covers  r^iany  pages  of  the 
"New  Heloisa,"  pages  at  once  eloquent  and  interesting. 
Artificial  as  are  many  of  its  details,  the  letter  is  a  plea 
for  nature  against  artificiality.  The  readers  in  the  eigh- 
teenth century  were  charmed,  and  hastened  to  imitate 
Rousseau's  heroine.  The  straight  gravel  walks,  the 
formal  flower-beds,  the  clipped  hedges  of  old  France,  be- 
came tiresome  in  the  eyes  of  their  possessors.  A  dreamer 
had  told  them  that  all  these  things  made  a  very  fine  place, 
where  the  owner  would  scarcely  care  to  go,  and  they 
believed  him.  The  new  fashion  brought  with  it  a  new 
affectation,  perhaps  the  most  offensive  of  all,  the  affecta- 
tion of  simplicity.  The  garden,  as  truly  a  product  of 
man's  hand  and  brain  as  the  house  or  the  picture-gallery, 
was  made  to  mimic  the  forest,  losing,  in  too  many  cases, 
its  own  peculiar  beauty,  without  gaining  the  true  charm 
of  wild  nature.  On  the  other  hand,  the  eyes  of  Rous- 
seau's admirers  were  opened  to  many  things  not  noticed 
1  Rousseau,  ix.  235  (Nouv.  He  I.  Part,  iv.  Let.  x.). 


LA   NOUVELLE   HELOISE   AND   EMILE.  307 

before.  The  real  woods  received  tlieir  appropriate  wor- 
ship. The  novel  of  Jean  Jacques  combined  with  the 
exhortations  of  the  economists  to  turn  the  attention  of  the 
educated  classes  to  rural  matters. 

The  life  led  by  the  model  couple  in  the  "New  Heloisa  " 
is  one  of  humdrum,  conscientious  respectability.  It  is  a 
country  life,  fairly  simple  and  without  ostentation;  but  it 
is  as  far  removed  as  possible  from  all  that  can  be  con- 
nected with  the  noble  savage.  Julie  and  Monsieur  de 
Wolmar,  her  husband,  rule  their  little  world  strictly  and 
kindly.  They  try  to  make  life  profitable  and  pleasant  to 
their  children  and  their  servants.  To  the  poor  they  are 
patronizing  and  benevolent.  Apart  from  their  overflow- 
ing sentimentality  they  are  honest,  self-sufficient,  com- 
monplace people.  Rousseau,  born  in  the  middle  class, 
had  a  middle-class,  respectable  ideal,  lying  beside  many 
very  different  ideals  in  his  ill-ordered  brain.  And  this 
novel  which  begins  with  passion  ends  with  something  not 
far  removed  from  priggishness. 

It  is  quite  needless  to  discuss  here  how  much  Rousseau 
owed  in  his  "Emile"  to  the  teachings  of  Locke,  of  Mon- 
taigne, or  of  others.  His  ideas,  wherever  he  may  have 
got  them,  were  always  sufficiently  colored  by  his  own  per- 
sonality. "Emile,"  which  has  even  less  structure  of 
fiction  than  the  "New  Heloisa,"  is  a  treatise  on  education, 
or  rather  on  the  ideal  education,  for  Rousseau  distinctly 
disclaims  the  intention  of  writing  a  handbook.  It  is  on 
the  whole  the  most  agreeable  and  the  most  useful  of  the 
works  of  its  author;  although  not  without  deplorable 
marks  of  his  baseness.  The  book  shows  an  amount  of 
careful  observation  of  children  not  a  little  astonishing  in  a 
man  who  sent  his  own  infants  to  the  Foundling  lest  they 
should  disturb  him ;  it  contains  remarks  about  good  women 
equally  remarkable  in  one  whose  dealings  in  life  were 
principally  with  bad  ones. 

"All  is  good  coming  from  the  hands  of  the  Author  of 


308     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

things;  everything  degenerates  in  the  hands  of  man;'* 
thus  begins  '^Emile."  "He  makes  one  land  nourish  the 
productions  of  another,  one  tree  bear  another's  fruit;  he 
mixes  and  confounds  the  climates,  the  elements,  the  sea- 
sons ;  he  mutilates  his  dog,  his  horse,  his  slave ;  he  over- 
turns, he  disfigures  everything;  he  loves  deformity  and 
monstrosities ;  he  wants  nothing  such  as  nature  made  it, 
not  even  man,  who  has  to  be  trained  for  him  like  a  man- 
aged horse,  trimmed  to  his  fashion,  like  a  tree  of  his 
garden." 

Ignorance  is  harmless ;  error  only  is  pernicious.  Men 
do  not  go  astray  on  account  of  the  things  of  which  they  are 
ignorant,  but  of  those  which  they  think  they  know.  The 
time  which  we  spend  in  learning  what  others  have  thought 
is  lost  for  learning  to  think  ourselves ;  we  have  more  in- 
formation and  less  vigor  of  mind. 

Let  us  seek  out  the  kind  of  education  proper  for  the 
formation  of  a  vigorous  and,  above  all,  of  an  independent 
man.  We  will  call  our  pupil  Emile.  The  author  him- 
self shall  be  his  tutor  and  shall  devote  himself  exclusively 
to  the  education  of  this  single  boy.  A  father,  however, 
is  the  best  of  tutors,  for  zeal  is  far  more  valuable  in  this 
place  than  talent.  But  whoever  it  be  that  undertakes  the 
education,  he  must  be  always  the  same  and  always  abso- 
lute. If  a  child  ever  gets  the  idea  that  there  are  grown 
people  that  have  no  more  reason  than  children,  the  author- 
ity of  age  is  lost,  the  education  has  failed. 

The  position  of  the  tutor  is  one  of  the  most  curious  and 
one  of  the  most  mistaken  things  in  "Emile."  While  in 
many  respects  the  training  described  in  the  book  would 
tend  to  make  a  manly  and  independent  boy,  the  pervad- 
ing presence  of  the  tutor  would  perhaps  undo  all  the  good 
of  the  system.  It  is  true  that  absolute  truth  is  recom- 
mended, that  "  a  single  lie  which  the  master  was  shown  to 
have  told  the  pupil  would  ruin  forever  the  fruit  of  the 
education."     Yet  the  tutor  is  to  interfere  openly  or  se- 


LA  NOUVELLE   HELOISE   AND   EMILE.  309 

cretly  in  every  part  of  Emile's  life.  "It  is  important 
that  the  disciple  shall  do  nothing  without  the  master's 
knowing  and  willing  it,  not  even  what  is  wrong ;  and  it  is 
a  hundred  times  better  that  the  governor  approve  of  a 
fault  and  be  mistaken,  than  that  he  should  be  deceived  by 
his  pupil  and  the  fault  committed  without  his  knowledge." 
Let  the  tutor,  therefore,  be  the  pupil's  confidant,  even, 
if  necessary,  his  companion  in  vice.  You  must  be  a  man 
to  speak  strongly  to  the  human  heart.  The  tutor  is  con- 
stantly deceiving  Emile,  and  some  of  his  tricks  are  so 
transparent  that  it  is  wonderful  that  Rousseau  could  have 
expected  the  simplest  of  boys  to  be  taken  in  by  them. 
Here  is  an  instance. 

The  object  is  to  show  Emile  the  origin  of  property,  and 
to  give  him  the  first  idea  of  its  obligations.  "The  child, 
living  in  the  coimtry,  will  have  got  some  notion  of  field- 
work;  for  that  he  will  need  only  eyes  and  leisure,  and 
both  of  these  he  will  have.  It  belongs  to  every  age,  and 
especially  to  his,  to  wish  to  create,  to  imitate,  to  produce, 
to  show  signs  of  power  and  activity.  He  wiU  not  twice 
have  seen  a  garden  dug,  vegetables  sown,  sprouting  and 
growing,  before  he  will  want  to  be  gardening  too. 

"On  the  principles  heretofore  established,  I  do  not 
oppose  his  desire ;  on  the  contrary,  I  favor  it,  I  share  his 
taste,  I  work  with  him,  not  for  his  pleasure,  but  for  mine ; 
at  least  he  thinks  so;  I  become  his  under-gardener ;  as 
his  arms  are  not  strong  yet,  I  dig  the  earth  for  him ;  he 
takes  possession  of  it  by  planting  a  bean ;  and  surely  that 
possession  is  more  sacred  and  worthy  of  respect  than  that 
which  Nunes  Balbao  took  of  South  America,  in  the  name 
of  the  king  of  Spain,  by  planting  his  standard  on  the 
shores  of  the  South  Sea. 

"We  come  every  day  to  water  the  beans,  we  see  them 
sprout  with  ecstasies  of  joy.  I  increase  that  joy  by  tell- 
ing him,  'This  belongs  to  you;'  and  by  explaining  to  him 
this  term,  Ho  belong,'   I  make  him  feel  that  he  has  spent 


310  THE   EVE   OF   THE   FRENCH   REVOLUTION. 

here  his  time,  his  labor,  his  pains,  his  very  person;  that 
in  this  earth  there  is  something  of  himself,  which  he  can 
claim  against  every  one,  as  he  could  draw  his  arm  from 
the  hand  of  a  man  who  should  try  to  hold  it  in  spite  of 
him. 

"  One  fine  day  he  comes  out  eagerly,  with  his  watering- 
pot  in  his  hand.  Oh  horrible  sight !  Oh  grief !  All  the 
beans  are  torn  up,  all  the  ground  is  turned  over;  you 
could  not  recognize  the  very  place.  *0h,  what  has  be- 
come of  my  labor,  my  work,  the  sweet  fruit  of  my  care 
and  of  my  sweat  ?  Who  has  robbed  me  of  my  property  ? 
Who  has  taken  my  beans  ?  '  His  young  heart  rises ;  the 
first  feeling  of  injustice  comes  to  pour  its  sad  bitterness 
into  it ;  tears  flow  in  streams ;  the  desolate  child  fills  the 
air  with  groans  and  cries.  I  share  his  pain,  his  indigna- 
tion; we  seek,  we  inquire,  we  examine.  At  last  we  dis- 
cover that  the  gardener  has  done  the  deed ;  we  summon 
him. 

"  But  here  we  are  very  far  out  of  our  reckoning.  The 
gardener,  learning  of  what  we  complain,  begins  to  com- 
plain louder  than  we.  'What!  gentlemen;  it  is  you  that 
have  thus  spoiled  my  work !  I  had  sown  in  that  place 
some  Maltese  melons,  whose  seed  had  been  given  me  as 
a  treasure,  and  which  I  hoped  to  serve  up  to  you  for 
a  feast  when  they  were  ripe ;  but  now,  to  plant  your  miser- 
able beans,  you  have  destroyed  my  melons  after  they  had 
sprouted,  and  I  can  never  replace  them.  You  have  done 
me  an  irreparable  injury,  and  you  have  deprived  your- 
selves of  the  pleasure  of  eating  delicious  melons.' 

''''Jean  Jacques.  Excuse  us,  my  poor  Robert.  You 
had  put  there  your  labor  and  your  pains.  I  see  that  we 
were  wrong  to  spoil  your  work;  we  will  get  you  some 
more  Maltese  seed,  and  we  will  dig  no  more  in  the 
ground,  without  knowing  if  some  one  has  not  set  his  hand 
to  it  before  us. 

''^Robert.    Well,  gentlemen,  at  that  rate  you  may  take 


LA    NOUVELLE   HELOISE   AND   EMILE.  311 

your  rest,  for  there  is  very  little  wild  land  left.  I  work 
on  what  my  father  improved;  everybody  does  the  same 
by  his  own,  and  all  the  land  you  see  has  long  been  occu- 
pied. 

''^ Emile.   In  that  case,  Robert,  is  melon  seed  often  lost? 

"  Mohert.  I  beg  your  pardon,  my  young  sir ;  little  gen- 
tlemen do  not  often  come  along  who  are  so  thoughtless  as 
you.  No  one  touches  his  neighbor's  garden;  each  man 
respects  the  work  of  others,  so  that  his  own  may  be  safe. 

'''' Emile.    But  I  have  no  garden. 

^''Robert.  What  difference  does  that  make  to  me?  If 
you  spoil  mine,  I  will  no  longer  let  you  walk  in  it ;  for, 
you  see,  I  do  not  want  to  lose  my  labor. 

''''Jean  Jacques.  Could  we  not  make  an  arrangement 
with  our  good  Robert  ?  Let  him  grant  my  young  friend 
and  me  a  corner  of  his  garden  to  cultivate,  on  condition 
that  he  shall  have  half  the  produce. 

''''  Rohert.  I  grant  it  without  conditions.  But  remem- 
ber that  I  shall  go  and  dig  up  your  beans  if  you  touch  my 
melons." 

It  is  perhaps  wi-ong  to  hold  Rousseau  in  any  part  of 
his  writings  to  any  approach  to  consistency.  We  have 
seen  some  of  the  mistakes  in  Emile 's  education.  Let  us 
look  at  some  of  its  strong  points.  Yet  we  shall  find  the 
tares  so  thoroughly  mixed  with  the  wheat  that  to  separate 
them  entirely  may  be  impossible.  Rousseau  insists  that 
from  the  earliest  infancy  the  child's  body  shall  be  free. 
The  swaddling  bands,  common  all  over  the  continent  in 
the  last  century,  in  which  the  poor  little  being  was  bound 
and  bundled  so  that  he  could  not  move  hand  or  foot, 
were  to  be  absolutely  discontinued.  The  child,  nursed 
if  possible  by  its  own  mother,  was  to  have  free  limbs.  It 
was  to  be  brought  up  in  the  country,  and  as  it  grew  older 
was  to  run  about  bareheaded  and  barefoot.  Too  much 
clothing,  thought  Rousseau,  makes  the  body  tender;  and 
he  seems  to  have  carried  the  theory  unreasonably  far. 


312     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

Cleanliness  and  cold  baths  were  recommended  to  a  gener- 
ation singularly  in  need  of  tliem.  Emile  was  brought  up 
to  enjoy  fresli  air,  perhaps  to  be  almost  a  slave  to  the 
need  of  it.  He  was  given  plenty  of  sleep,  but  his  bed 
was  hard,  his  food  coarse.  Everything  was  done  to  make 
him  strong,  hardy,  and  active. 

"The  only  habit  which  the  child  should  be  allowed  to 
form  is  that  of  forming  none."  He  should  not  use  one 
hand  more  than  the  other ;  he  should  not  be  accustomed 
to  want  to  eat  or  to  sleep  at  the  same  hours  every  day, 
nor  should  he  fear  to  be  alone.  He  should  be  gradually 
taught  not  to  be  afraid  of  masks,  to  overcome  his  fright 
at  firearms.  He  should  be  helped  in  all  that  is  really 
useful,  but  not  encouraged  to  indulge  vain  fancies.  Chil- 
dren should  be  given  as  much  real  liberty  as  possible,  and 
as  little  dominion  over  others  as  may  be.  They  should 
do  as  much  as  possible  by  themselves,  and  ask  as  little  as 
they  can  of  others.  "  The  only  person  who  does  his  own 
will  is  he  who  does  not  need,  in  doing  it,  to  put  another's 
arms  at  the  end  of  his  own ;  whence  it  follows  that  the 
first  of  all  good  things  is  not  authority,  but  liberty." 

Emile's  desire  to  learn  is  to  be  excited.  He  is  to  see 
the  reason  for  the  steps  he  takes.  The  talent  of  teaching 
is  that  of  making  the  pupil  pleased  with  the  instruction. 
Something  must  be  left  to  the  boy's  own  mind  and  reflec- 
tion. He  is  not  to  be  given  much  to  read.  For  a  long 
time,  let  "Robinson  Crusoe"  be  his  only  book.  But 
Emile  shall  learn  a  trade,  a  good  mechanical  trade,  which 
is  always  needed,  in  which  there  is  always  employment. 
He  shall  also  learn  to  draw ;  less  for  the  art  itself  than 
to  make  his  eye  accurate  and  his  hand  obedient ;  for  in 
general  it  is  less  important  for  him  to  know  this  or  that 
than  to  acquire  the  clearness  of  sense  and  the  good  habit 
of  body  which  the  various  studies  give. 

Having  brought  up  Emile  to  manhood,  it  becomes  ne- 
cessary to  provide  him  with  a  wife.    Here  the  +utor  is  still 


LA   NOUVELLE    IIELOISE    AND   EMILE.  313 

active,  and  prepares  the  meeting  with  Sophie  which  Emile 
takes  for  accidental.  It  is  needless  to  remark  aaain  on 
the  young  man's  gullibility.  He  is  Rousseau's  creature, 
and  fashioned  as  his  maker  pleases.  Nothing  is  more 
disturbing  than  to  submit  the  dreams  of  such  a  man  as 
Jean  Jacques  to  the  unsympathetic  rules  of  common  sense o 
Our  concern  is  with  the  effect  they  produced  on  the  minds 
of  other  people,  who  undertook  in  some  measure  to  live 
them  out.  Let  us  then  pause  over  some  of  the  considera- 
tions suggested  by  the  necessity  of  admitting  into  the 
scheme  of  education  a  being  so  disturbing  as  a  woman. 

Rousseau  saw  more,  I  think,  than  most  persons  who 
have  undertaken  to  deal  with  the  subject  in  a  reforming 
spirit,  what  is  the  true  and  proper  relation  between  the 
sexes.  While  boys  are  to  exercise  the  manly  trades  that 
require  physical  strength,  he  would  leave  to  women  the 
lighter  employments,  and  more  especially  those  connected 
with  dress  and  its  materials.  It  is  the  usual  mistake  of 
those  who  in  our  day  set  themselves  up  as  champions  of 
woman,  to  seek  to  make  the  sexes  not  coordinate  and 
mutually  helpful,  but  identical  and  competing.  "It  is 
perhaps  one  of  the  marvels  of  nature,"  says  Rousseau,  "to 
have  made  two  beings  so  similar  while  forming  them  so 
difPerently."! 

On  the  whole,  Sophie  is  a  more  attractive  person  than 
Emile;  perhaps  because  she  has  been  brought  up  by  her 
mother,  and  not  given  over  in  her  babyhood  to  the  vigi- 
lance of  Jean  Jacques.  The  artistic  quality  of  the  au- 
thor's mind  has  obliged  him  to  make  his  heroine  more 
true  to  nature  than  his  theories  have  allowed  him  to  make 
his  hero.  And  his  theories  about  girls  are  quite  as  good 
and  quite  as  different  from  the  fashionable  practice  of  his 
day  as  those  about  boys.     It  is  curious  how  his  ideas 

1  (Euvres,  v.  5  (Emile,  liv.  v.).  Compare  viii.  203  (Nouv.  Hel. 
Letter).  "  A  perfect  man  and  a  perfect  woman  should  not  resemble 
each  other  any  more  in  their  souls  than  in  their  faces." 


314     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

approach  the  American  customs.  A  certain  coquetry,  he 
says,  is  allowable  in  marriageable  girls;  amusement  is 
their  principal  business.  Married  women  have  the  cares 
of  home  to  occupy  them,  and  have  no  longer  to  seek  hus- 
bands. Rousseau  would  let  the  girls  appear  in  public, 
would  take  them  to  balls,  entertainments,  the  theatre. 
Sophie  is  not  only  more  vivacious  than  Emile,  she  has 
also  more  self-control  than  he ;  who,  in  spite  of  his  virile 
education,  is  entirely  overcome  when  the  ever-meddling 
tutor  insists  on  two  years  of  travel  for  his  pupil,  in  order 
that  the  young  people  may  grow  older  and  that  Emile 
may  learn  to  master  his  passions.  The  day  of  parting 
arrives,  and  Emile,  in  true  eighteenth  century  style,  utters 
shrieks,  sheds  torrents  of  tears  on  the  hands  of  Soi3hie's 
father,  of  her  mother,  of  the  heroine  herself,  embraces 
with  sobs  all  the  servants  of  the  family,  and  repeats  the 
same  things  a  thousand  times  with  a  disorder  which,  even 
to  Jean  Jacques's  rudimentary  sense  of  humor,  would  be 
laughable  under  circumstances  less  desperate.  Sophie, 
on  the  other  hand  is  quiet,  pale  and  sad,  without  tears, 
insensible  to  the  cries  and  caresses  of  her  lover. 

It  is  in  "Emile  "  that  Rousseau  gives  the  most  elaborate 
expression  of  his  religious  opinions,  putting  them  in  the 
mouth  of  a  poor  curate  in  Savoy.  ^  The  pupil  has  been 
kept  ignorant  of  all  religion  to  the  age  of  eighteen,  "for 
if  he  learns  it  earlier  than  he  should,  he  runs  the  risk  of 
never  knowing  it."  Without  stopping  to  consider  the 
dangers  of  this  course,  let  us  see  what  answer  Rousseau 
gives  to  the  greatest  questions  that  perplex  mankind.  We 
may  expect  much  sublime  feeling,  some  moral  perversion, 
little  logical  thought. 

The  Roman  Church,  he  says,  by  calling  on  us  to  believe 
too   much,   may   prevent    our  believing    anything.     We 

^  The  passage  is  known  as  "Profession  de  Foi  du  Vicaire  Savo- 
yard "  and  is  found  in  the  fourth  book  of  Emile,  CEuvres,  iv.  136-254 


LA   NOUVELLE    HELOISE    AND   EMILE.  315 

know  not  where  to  stop.  But  doubt  on  matters  so  impor- 
tant to  us  is  a  state  unbearable  to  the  human  mind.  It 
decides  one  way  or  another  in  spite  of  itself,  and  prefers 
to  make  a  mistake  rather  than  to  believe  nothing. 

Motion  can  originate  only  in  will.  "I  believe,  then, 
that  a  will  moves  the  universe  and  animates  nature."  .  .  , 
"  How  does  a  will  produce  a  physical  and  corporeal  action? 
I  do  not  know,  but  I  feel  within  myself  that  it  does  pro- 
duce it.  I  will  to  act,  and  I  act ;  I  wish  to  move  my 
body,  and  my  body  moves ;  but  that  an  inanimate  body  in 
repose  should  move  itself,  or  should  produce  motion,  is 
incomprehensible  and  without  example."  .  .  .  "If  matter 
moved  shows  me  will,  matter  moved  according  to  certain 
laws  shows  me  intelligence ;  this  is  my  second  article  of 
faith."  We  see  that  the  universe  has  a  plan,  although 
we  do  not  see  to  what  it  tends.  I  cannot  believe  that 
dead  matter  has  produced  living  and  feeling  beings,  that 
blind  chance  has  produced  intelligent  beings,  that  what 
does  not  think  has  produced  what  thinks.  "Whether 
matter  is  eternal  or  created,  whether  or  not  there  is  a  pas- 
sive principle,  it  is  certain  that  all  is  one  and  proclaims  a 
single  intelligence ;  for  I  see  nothing  which  is  not  ordered 
in  the  same  system,  and  which  does  not  concur  to  the  same 
end,  namely,  the  preservation  of  the  whole  in  the  estab- 
lished order.  This  Being  who  wills  and  who  can,  this 
Being  active  in  Himself,  this  Being,  whatever  he  may  be, 
who  moves  the  universe  and  orders  all  things,  I  call  God. 
I  attach  to  this  name  the  ideas  of  intelligence,  power  and 
will,  which  I  have  united  [to  form  the  conception],  and 
that  of  goodness  which  is  their  necessary  consequence; 
but  I  know  no  better  the  Being  to  whom  I  have  given  it; 
He  hides  HimseK  alike  from  my  senses  and  my  under- 
standing; the  more  I  think  of  it,  the  more  I  am  con- 
fused; I  know  very  certainly  that  He  exists  and  that 
He  exists  by  himself ;  I  know  that  my  existence  is  subor- 
dinated to  His,  and  that  all  things  that  I  know  of  are  in 


816     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

the  same  case.  I  perceive  God  everywhere  in  His  works ; 
I  feel  Him  in  myself,  I  see  Him  about  me;  but  as  soon 
as  I  want  to  contemplate  Him  in  HimseK,  as  soon  as  I 
want  to  seek  where  He  is,  what  He  is,  what  is  His  sub- 
stance, He  escapes  from  me,  and  my  troubled  spirit  per- 
ceives nothing  more." 

Having  considered  the  attributes  of  God,  the  Savoyard 
curate  turns  to  himself.  He  finds  that  he  can  observe 
and  govern  other  creatures;  whence  he  infers  that  they 
may  all  be  made  for  him.  But  mankind  differs  from  all 
other  things  in  nature  by  being  inharmonious,  disorderly, 
and  miserable.  Man  has  in  himself  two  distinct  princi- 
ples, one  of  which  lifts  him  to  the  study  of  eternal  truth, 
to  the  love  of  justice  and  moral  beauty ;  the  other  enslaves 
him  under  the  rule  of  the  senses,  and  the  passions  which 
are  their  servants.  "No!  "  cries  the  curate,  "man  is  not 
one ;  I  will,  and  I  will  not ;  I  feel  myself  at  once  enslaved, 
and  free ;  I  see  good,  I  love  it,  and  I  do  evil ;  I  am  active 
when  I  listen  to  reason,  passive  when  my  passions  carry 
me  away;  my  worst  torture,  when  I  fail,  is  to  feel  that 
I  could  have  resisted." 

Man  is  free  in  his  actions,  and,  therefore,  animated  by 
an  immaterial  substance.  This  is  the  third  article  of  the 
curate's  faith.  Conscience  is  the  voice  of  the  soul;  the 
passions  are  the  voices  of  the  body.  Immortality  of  the 
soul  is  a  pleasing  doctrine  and  there  is  nothing  to  contra- 
dict it.  "  When,  delivered  from  the  illusions  caused  by 
the  body  and  the  senses,  we  shall  enjoy  the  contemplation 
of  the  Supreme  Being,  and  of  the  eternal  truths  whose 
source  He  is,  when  the  beauty  of  order  shall  strike  all  the 
powers  of  our  soul,  and  we  shall  be  solely  occupied  in 
comparing  what  we  have  done  with  what  we  ought  to  have 
done,  then  will  the  voice  of  conscience  resume  its  force 
and  its  empire ;  then  will  the  pure  bliss  which  is  born  of 
self -content,  and  the  bitter  regret  for  self -debasement,  dis- 
tinguish by  inexhaustible  feelings  the  fate  which  each  man 


LA   NOUVELLE   HELOISE   AND   EMILE.  317 

will  have  prepared  for  liimseK.  Ask  me  not,  O  my  good 
friend,  if  there  will  be  other  sources  of  happiness  and  of 
misery;  I  do  not  know,  and  the  one  I  imagine  is  enough 
to  console  me  for  this  life  and  to  make  me  hope  for  an- 
other. I  do  not  say  that  the  good  will  be  rewarded ;  for 
what  other  reward  can  await  an  excellent  being  than  to 
live  in  accordance  with  his  nature;  but  I  say  that  they 
will  be  happy,  because  the  Author  of  their  being,  the 
Author  of  all  justice,  having  made  them  to  feel,  has  not 
made  them  to  suffer  ;  and  because,  not  having  abused 
their  liberty  on  the  earth,  they  have  not  changed  their 
destiny  by  their  own  fault;  yet  they  have  suffered  in  this 
life,  and  so  they  will  have  it  made  up  to  them  in  another. 
This  feeling  is  less  founded  on  the  merit  of  man  than  on 
the  notion  of  goodness  which  seems  to  me  inseparable  from 
the  divine  essence.  I  only  suppose  the  laws  of  order  to 
be  observed,  and  God  consistent  with  HimseK."^ 

"Neither  ask  me  if  the  torments  of  the  wicked  will  be 
eternal,  and  whether  it  is  consistent  with  the  goodness  of 
the  Author  of  their  being  to  condemn  them  to  suffer  for- 
ever; I  do  not  know  that  either,  and  have  not  the  vain 
curiosity  to  examine  useless  questions.  What  matters  it 
to  me  what  becomes  of  the  wicked  ?  I  take  little  interest 
in  their  fate.  Nevertheless  I  find  it  hard  to  believe  that 
they  are  condemned  to  endless  torments.  If  Supreme 
Justice  avenges  itself,  it  avenges  itself  in  this  life.  You 
and  your  errors,  O  nations,  are  its  ministers !  It  employs 
the  ills  which  you  make  to  pimish  the  crimes  which 
brought  them  about.  It  is  in  your  insatiable  hearts, 
gnawed  with  envy,  avarice,  and  ambition,  that  the  aveng- 
ing passions  punish  your  crimes,  in  the  midst  of  your  false 
prosperity.  What  need  to  seek  hell  in  the  other  life? 
It  is  already  here,  in  the  hearts  of  the  wicked." 

^  "  Non  pas  pour  nous,  non  pas  pour  nous,  Seigneur, 
Mais  pour  ton  nom,  mais  pour  ton  propre  honneur, 
O  Dieu  !  fais  nous  revivre  !     Ps.  115." 

(Rousseau's  note). 


318  THE   EVE   OF   THE   FRENCH   REVOLUTION. 

Revelation  is  unnecessary.  Miracles  need  proof  more 
than  they  give  it.  As  soon  as  the  nations  undertook  to 
make  God  speak,  each  made  Him  speak  in  its  own  way. 
If  men  had  listened  only  to  what  He  says  in  their  hearts, 
there  had  been  but  one  religion  upon  earth.  "  I  meditate 
on  the  order  of  the  universe,  not  to  explain  it  by  vain 
systems,  but  to  admire  it  unceasingly,  to  adore  the  wise 
Author  who  is  felt  in  it.  I  converse  with  Him,  I  let  His 
divine  essence  penetrate  all  my  faculties,  I  tenderly  re- 
member His  benefits,  I  bless  Him  for  His  gifts ;  but  I  do 
not  pray  to  Him.  What  should  I  ask  Him?  That  He 
should  change  the  course  of  things  on  my  account ;  that 
He  should  perform  miracles  in  my  favor?  I,  who  should 
love  more  than  all  things  the  order  established  by  His 
wisdom,  and  maintained  by  His  Providence,  should  I  wish 
to  see  that  order  interfered  with  for  me?  No,  that  rash 
prayer  would  deserve  to  be  punished  rather  than  to  be 
answered.  Nor  do  I  ask  Him  for  the  power  to  do  good ; 
why  ask  Him  for  what  He  has  given  me  ?  Has  He  not 
given  me  a  conscience  to  love  the  good ;  reason,  to  know 
it;  liberty,  to  choose  it?  If  I  do  evil,  I  have  no  excuse; 
I  do  it  because  I  will ;  to  ask  him  to  change  my  will  is  to 
ask  of  Him  what  He  demands  of  me ;  it  is  wanting  Him 
to  do  my  work,  and  let  me  take  the  reward;  not  to  be 
content  with  my  state  is  to  want  to  be  a  man  no  longer,  it 
is  to  want  things  otherwise  than  they  are,  it  is  to  want  dis- 
order and  evil.  Source  of  justice  and  truth,  clement  and 
kind  God !  in  my  trust  in  Thee  the  supreme  wish  of  my 
heart  is  that  Thy  will  may  be  done.  In  uniting  mine  to 
it,  I  do  what  thou  doest,  I  acquiesce  in  Thy  goodness ;  I 
seem  to  share  beforehand  the  supreme  felicity  which  is  its 
price." 

This  appears  to  have  been  Rousseau's  deliberate  opinion 
on  the  subject  of  prayer.  He  has,  however,  expressed  in 
the  "New  Heloisa"  quite  another  view,  which  is  found  in 
a  letter  from  Julie  to  Saint-Preux,  and  is  inserted  princi- 


LA   NOUVELLE    IIELOISE    AND   EMILE.  319 

pally,  perhaps,  to  give  the  latter  an  opportunity  to  answer 
it.  Yet  Rousseau,  as  we  have  often  seen,  although  unable 
to  understand  that  any  one  could  honestly  differ  from 
himself,  was  quite  capable  of  holding  conflicting  opinions. 
And  the  value  of  any  one  of  his  sayings  is  not  much 
diminished  by  the  fact  that  it  is  contradicted  in  the  next 
chapter.  "You  have  religion,"  says  Julie, ^  "but  I  am 
afraid  that  you  do  not  get  from  it  all  the  advantage  which 
it  offers  in  the  conduct  of  life,  and  that  philosophical 
pride  may  disdain  the  simplicity  of  the  Christian.  I  have 
seen  you  hold  opinions  on  prayer  which  are  not  to  my 
taste.  According  to  you,  this  act  of  humility  is  fruitless 
for  us;  and  God,  having  given  us,  in  our  consciences,  all 
that  can  lead  us  to  good,  afterwards  leaves  us  to  ourselves 
and  allows  our  liberty  to  act.  That  is  not,  as  you  know, 
the  doctrine  of  Saint  Paul,  nor  that  which  is  professed  in 
our  church.  We  are  free,  it  is  true,  but  we  are  ignorant, 
weak,  inclined  to  evil.  And  whence  should  light  and 
strength  come  to  us,  if  not  from  Him  who  is  their 
source?  And  why  should  we  obtain  them,  if  we  do  not 
deign  to  ask  for  them?  Beware,  my  friend,  lest  to  your 
sublime  conceptions  of  the  Great  Being,  human  pride  join 
low  ideas,  which  belong  but  to  mankind ;  as  if  the  means 
which  relieve  our  weakness  were  suitable  to  divine  Power, 
and  as  if,  like  us.  It  required  art  to  generalize  things,  so 
as  to  treat  them  more  easily !  It  seems,  to  listen  to  you, 
that  this  Power  would  be  embarrassed  should  It  watch 
over  every  individual ;  you  fear  that  a  divided  and  con- 
tinual attention  might  fatigue  It,  and  you  think  it  much 
finer  that  It  should  do  everything  by  general  laws,  doubt- 
less because  they  cost  It  less  care.  O  great  philosophers! 
How  much  God  is  obliged  to  you  for  your  easy  methods 
and  for  sparing  Him  work." 

Enough  has  been  said  of  the  theism  of  Rousseau  to 
show  its  great  difference  from  that  of  Voltaire  and  of  his 
1  Nouvelle  Heloise^  Part.  vi.  Let.  vi.   ((Euvres,  x.  261). 


320  THE   EVE   OF  THE   FRENCH   REVOLUTION. 

followers.  His  attitude  toward  them  is  not  unlike  that 
of  Socrates  toward  the  Sophists.  Indeed,  Jean  Jacques, 
by  whomever  inspired,  is  far  more  of  a  prophet  than  of  a 
philosopher.  He  speaks  by  an  authority  which  he  feels  to 
be  above  argument.  In  opposition  to  Locke  and  to  all 
his  school,  he  dares  to  believe  in  innate  ideas,  although 
he  calls  them  feelings. ^  These  innate  ideas  are  love  of 
self,  fear  of  pain,  horror  of  death,  the  desire  for  well- 
being.     Conscience  may  well  be  one  of  them. 

"My  son,"  cries  the  Savoyard  curate,  "keep  your  soul 
always  in  a  state  to  desire  that  there  may  be  a  God,  and 
you  will  never  doubt  it.  Moreover,  whatever  course  you 
may  adopt,  consider  that  the  true  duties  of  religion  are 
independent  of  the  institutions  of  men ;  that  a  just  heart  is 
the  true  temple  of  Divinity ;  that  in  all  countries  and  all 
sects,  to  love  God  above  all  things,  and  your  neighbor  as 
yourself,  is  the  sum  of  the  law ;  that  no  religion  dispenses 
with  the  moral  duties;  that  these  are  the  only  duties 
really  essential;  that  the  inward  worship  is  the  first  of 
these  duties,  and  that  without  faith  no  true  virtue  exists. 

"Flee  from  those  who,  under  the  pretense  of  explain- 
ing nature,  sow  desolating  doctrines  in  the  hearts  of  men, 
and  whose  apparent  skepticism  is  a  hundred  times  more 
affirmative  and  more  dogmatic  than  the  decided  tone  of 
their  adversaries." 

At  the  time  when  "Emile"  was  written,  Jean  Jacques 
had  quarreled  personally  with  most  of  his  old  associates 
of  the  Philosophic  school.  Diderot,  D'Alembert,  Grimm, 
and  their  master,  Voltaire,  —  Rousseau  had  some  real  or 
fancied  grievance  against  them  all.  But  the  difference 
between  him  and  them  was  intrinsic,  not  accidental.     By 

1  "  When,  first  occupied  with  the  object,  we  think  of  ourselves  only 
by  reflection,  it  is  an  idea  ;  on  the  other  hand,  when  the  impression 
received  excites  our  first  attention  and  we  think  only  by  reflection  on 
the  object  which  causes  it,  it  is  a  sensation."  (Euvres,  iv.  195  n. 
(^Emile,  liv.  iv.). 


LA   NOUVELLE   HELOISE   AND   EMILE.  321 

nature  and  training  they  belonged  to  the  rather  thin 
rationalism  of  the  eighteenth  century ;  a  rationalism  which 
was  so  eager  to  believe  nothing  not  acquired  through  the 
senses  that  it  preferred  to  leave  half  the  phenomena  of  life 
not  only  unaccounted  for  but  unconsidered,  because  to 
account  for  them  by  its  own  methods  was  difficult,  if  not 
impossible.  Rousseau,  at  least,  contemplated  the  whole 
of  human  nature,  its  affections,  aspirations,  and  passions, 
as  well  as  its  observations  and  reflections,  and  this  was 
the  secret  of  his  influence  over  men. 


CHAPTER   XX. 

THE   PAMPHLETS. 

The  reign  of  Louis  XVI.  was  a  time  of  great  and 
rapid  change.  The  old  order  was  passing  away,  and  the 
Revolution  was  taking  place  both  in  manners  and  laws,  for 
fifteen  years  before  the  assembling  of  the  Estates  General. 
In  the  previous  reigns  the  rich  middle  class  had  ap- 
proached social  equality  with  the  nobles;  and  the  sons 
of  great  families  had  consented  to  repair  their  broken 
fortunes  by  marrying  the  daughters  of  financiers ;  — 
"manuring  their  land,"  they  called  it. 

Next  a  new  set  of  persons  claimed  a  place  in  the  social 
scale.  The  men  of  letters  were  courted  even  by  courtiers. 
The  doctrines  of  the  Philosophers  had  fairly  entered  the 
public  mind.  The  nobility  and  the  middle  class,  with 
such  of  the  poor  as  could  read  and  think,  had  been  deeply 
impressed  by  Voltaire  and  the  Encyclopaedists.  All  men 
had  not  been  affected  in  the  same  way.  Some  were  blind 
followers  of  these  leaders,  eager  to  push  the  doctrines  of 
the  school  to  the  last  possible  results,  partisans  of  Helve- 
tius  and  Holbach.  These  were  the  most  logical.  Beside 
them  came  the  sentimentalists,  the  worshipers  of  Rous- 
seau. They  were  not  a  whit  less  dogmatic  than  the 
others,  but  their  dogmatism  took  more  fanciful  and  less 
consistent  forms.  They  believed  in  their  ideal  republics 
or  their  social  compacts  with  a  religious  faith.  Some  of 
them  were  ready  to  persecute  others  and  to  die  them- 
selves for  their  chimeras,  and  subsequently  proved  it. 
And  in  not  a  few  minds  the  teachings  of  Holbach  and 
those  of  Rousseau  were  more  or  less  confused,  and  co- 


THE   PAMPHLETS.  323 

existed  with  a  lingering  belief  in  the  church  and  her 
doctrines.  People  still  went  to  mass  from  habit,  from 
education,  from  an  uneasy  feeling  that  it  was  a  good  thing 
to  do;  doubting  all  the  while  with  Voltaire,  dreaming 
with  Rousseau,  wondering  what  might  be  coming,  believ- 
ing that  the  world  was  speedily  to  be  improved,  having  no 
very  definite  idea  as  to  how  the  improvement  was  to  be 
brought  about,  but  trusting  vaguely  to  the  enlightenment 
of  the  age,  which  was  taken  for  granted. 

For  this  reign  of  the  last  absolute  king  of  France  was  a 
time  of  hope  and  of  belief  in  human  perfectibilit5^  One 
after  another,  the  schemers  had  come  forward  with  their 
plans  for  regenerating  society.  There  were  the  econo- 
mists, ready  to  swear  that  the  world,  and  especially  France, 
would  be  rich,  if  free  trade  were  adopted,  and  the  taxes 
were  laid  —  they  could  not  quite  agree  how.  There  were 
the  army  reformers,  burning  to  introduce  Prussian  disci- 
pline ;  if  only  you  could  reconcile  blows  and  good  feel- 
ing. There  were  people  calling  for  Equality,  and  for 
government  by  the  most  enlightened ;  quite  unaware  that 
their  demahds  were  inconsistent.  There  were  the  philan- 
thropists, perhaps  the  most  genuine  of  all  the  reformers, 
working  at  the  hospitals  and  prisons,  and  reducing  in  no 
small  measure  the  sum  of  misery  in  France*^ 

These  changes  in  men's  minds  began  to  bear  fruit  in 
action.     The  attempted   reforms  of  Turgot,  of  Necker, 

1  Among  other  instances  of  this  spirit  of  hopefulness,  notice  those 
volumes  of  the  Encyclopedie  Methodique  which  were  published  as 
early  as  1789.  They  are  largely  devoted  to  telling  how  things  ought 
to  be.  See  also  the  correspondence  of  Lafayette,  who  was  thoroughly 
steeped  in  the  spirit  of  this  time.  The  feeling  of  hope  was  not  the 
only  feeling,  there  was  despondency  also.  But  we  must  be  careful 
not  to  be  deceived  by  the  tone  of  many  people  who  wrote  long  after- 
ward, when  they  had  undergone  the  shock  of  the  great  Revolution. 
In  the  study  of  this  period,  more  perhaps  than  in  that  of  any  other, 
it  is  important  to  distinguish  between  contemporary  evidence  and  the 
evidence  of  contemporaries  given  subsequently. 


324     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

of  the  Notables;  the  abolition  of  the  corvee^  of  monopo- 
lies in  trade,  of  judicial  torture,  the  establishment  of 
provincial  assemblies,  the  civil  rights  given  to  Protestants, 
have  been  mentioned  already.  These  things  were  done  in 
a  weak  and  inconsistent  manner  because  of  the  character 
of  the  king,  who  was  drawn  in  one  direction  by  his  cour- 
tiers and  in  another  by  his  conscience,  and  satisfied  neither. 
Man  must  always  look  outside  of  himself  for  a  standard 
of  right  and  wrong.  He  must  have  something  with  which 
to  compare  the  dictates  of  his  own  conscience,  some  chro- 
nometer to  set  his  watch  by.  In  the  decay  of  religious 
ideas,  the  Frenchmen  of  the  eighteenth  century  had  set 
up  a  standard  of  comparison  independent  of  revelation. 
They  had  found  it  in  public  opinion.  The  sociable  popu- 
lation of  Paris  was  ready  to  accept  the  common  voice  as 
arbiter.  It  had  always  been  powerful  in  France,  where 
the  desire  for  sympathy  is  strong.  A  pamphlet  published 
in  1730  says  that  if  the  episcopate  falls  into  error  it 
should  be  "instructed,  corrected,  even  judged  by  the 
people."  "A  halberd  leads  a  kingdom,"  cried  a  courtier 
to  Quesnay  the  economist.  "And  who  leads  the  hal- 
berd? "  retorted  the  latter.  "Public  opinion."  "There 
are  circumstances,"  say  the  venerable  and  conservative 
lawyers  of  the  Parliament,  "when  magistrates  may  look 
on  their  loss  of  court  favor  as  an  honor.  It  is  when  they 
are  consoled  by  public  esteem."  Poor  Louis  himself, 
catching  the  fever  of  longing  for  popularity,  proposes  to 
"raise  the  results  of  public  opinion  to  the  rank  of  laws, 
after  they  have  been  submitted  to  ripe  and  profound 
examination."  ^  The  appeal  is  constantly  made  from  old- 
fashioned  prejudice  to  some  new  notion  supposed  to  be 
generally  current,  as  if  the  one  proved  more  than  the 
other.  From  this  worship  of  public  opinion  come  extreme 
irritation  under  criticism  and  cowardly  fear  of  ridicule ; 

1  Rocquain,  54.       Lavergne,  Economistes,  103.      Chdrest,   i.  454 
(May  1,  1788). 


THE   PAMPHLETS.  325 

Voltaire  himself  asking  for  lettres  de  cachet  against  a 
literary  opponent.  Seldom,  indeed,  do  we  find  any  one 
ready  to  say:  "This  is  right;  thus  men  ought  to  think; 
and  if  mankind  thinks  differently,  mankind  is  mistaken." 
Such  a  tone  comes  chiefly  from  the  mouth  of  that  excep- 
tion for  good  and  evil,  Jean  Jacques  Rousseau. 

This  dependent  state  of  mind  is  far  removed  from  vir- 
tue. But  human  nature  is  often  better  than  it  represents 
itself  to  be.  Both  Quesnay  and  the  magistrates  had  in 
fact  a  higher  standard  of  right  and  wrong  than  the  aver- 
age feeling  of  the  multitude.  Every  sect  and  every  party 
makes,  in  a  measure,  its  own  public  opinion,  and  the 
consent  for  which  we  seek  is  chiefly  the  consent  of  those 
persons  whose  ideas  we  respect.  The  thinkers  of  the 
eighteenth  century,  after  appealing  to  public  opinion, 
were  quite  ready  to  cast  off  their  allegiance  to  it  when  it 
decided  against  them. 

Yet  Frenchmen  paid  the  penalty  for  setting  up  a  false 
god.  Having  agreed  to  worship  public  opinion,  without 
asking  themselves  definitely  who  were  the  public,  they 
fell  into  frequent  and  fatal  errors.  The  mob  often  claimed 
the  place  on  the  pedestal  of  opinion,  and  its  claims  were 
allowed.  The  turbulent  populace  of  Paris,  clamorous  now 
for  cheap  bread,  now  for  the  return  of  the  Parliament 
from  exile,  anon  for  the  blood  of  men  and  women  whom 
it  chose  to  consider  its  enemies,  was  supposed  to  be  the 
voice  of  the  French  nation,  which  was  superstitiously 
assumed  to  be  the  voice  of  God. 

The  inhabitants  of  great  cities  love  to  be  amused. 
Those  of  Paris,  being  quicker  witted  than  most  mortals, 
care  much  to  have  something  happening.  They  detest 
dullness  and  are  fond  of  wit.  In  countries  where  speech 
and  the  press  are  free,  a  witticism,  or  a  clever  book,  is 
seldom  a  great  event.  But  under  Louis  XVI.,  as  has 
been  said,  you  could  never  quite  tell  what  would  come  of 
a  paragraph.     A  minister  of  state  might  lose  his  temper. 


326     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

A  writer  might  have  to  spend  a  few  weeks  in  Holland,  or 
even  in  the  Bastille.  This  was  not  much  to  suffer  for  the 
sake  of  notoriety,  but  it  gave  the  charm  of  uncertainty. 
There  was  just  enough  danger  in  saying  "strong  things" 
to  make  them  attractive,  and  to  make  it  popular  to  say 
them.  With  a  free  press,  men  whose  opinions  are  either 
valuable  or  dangerous  get  very  tired  of  "strong  things," 
and  prefer  less  spice  in  their  intellectual  fare. 

The  most  famous  satirical  piece  of  the  reign  is  also  its 
most  remarkable  literary  production.  The  "Mariage  de 
Figaro,"  of  Beaumarchais,  has  acquired  importance  apart 
from  its  merits  as  a  comedy,  both  from  its  political  his- 
tory and  from  its  good  fortune  in  being  set  to  immortal 
music.  The  plot  is  poor  and  intricate,  but  the  dialogue 
is  uniformly  sparkling,  and  two  of  the  characters  will  live 
as  typical.  In  Cherubin  we  have  the  dissolute  boy  whose 
vice  has  not  yet  wrinkled  into  ugliness,  best  known  to 
English  readers  under  the  name  of  Don  Juan,  but  fresher 
and  more  ingenuous  than  Byron's  young  rake.  Figaro, 
the  hero  of  the  play,  is  the  comic  servant,  familiar  to  the 
stage  from  the  time  of  Plautus,  impudent,  daring,  plaus- 
ible; likely  to  be  overreached,  if  at  all,  by  his  own  un~ 
scrupulousness.  But  he  is  also  the  adventurer  of  the  last 
age  of  the  French  monarchy,  full  of  liberal  ideas  and 
ready  to  give  a  decided  opinion  on  anything  that  concerns 
society  or  politics ;  a  Scapin,  who  has  brushed  the  clothes 
of  Voltaire.  He  is  a  shabby,  younger  brother  of  Beau- 
marchais himself,  immensely  clever  and  not  without  kindly 
feeling,  a  rascal  you  can  be  fond  of.  "Intrigue  and 
money;  you  are  in  your  element!"  cries  Susanne  to  Fi- 
garo, in  the  first  act.  "A hundred  times  I  have  seen  you 
march  on  to  fortune,  but  never  walk  straight,"  says  the 
Count  to  him,  in  the  third.  We  laugh  when  the  blows 
meant  for  others  smack  loud  on  his  cheeks ;  but  we  grudge 
him  neither  his  money  nor  his  pretty  wife. 

It  is  through  this  character  that   Beaumarchais  tells 
the  nobility,  the  court,  and  the  government  of  France  what 


THE   PAMPHLETS.  327 

is  being  said  about  them  in  the  street.  He  repays  with 
bitter  gibes  the  insolence  which  he  himself,  the  clever, 
ambitious  man  of  the  middle  class,  has  received,  in  his 
long  struggle  for  notoriety  and  wealth,  from  people  whose 
personal  claims  to  respect  were  no  better  than  his  own. 
"What  have  you  done  to  have  so  much  wealth?"  cries 
Figaro  in  his  soliloquy,  apostrophizing  the  Count,  who  is 
trying  to  steal  his  mistress,  "You  have  taken  the  trouble 
to  be  born,  nothing  more  !  "  "I  was  spoken  of,  for  an 
office,"  he  says  again,  "but  unfortunately  I  was  fitted  for 
it.  An  accountant  was  needed,  and  a  dancer  got  it." 
And  in  another  place:  "I  was  born  to  be  a  courtier;  re- 
ceiving, taking  and  asking,  are  the  whole  secret  in  three 
words." 

As  for  the  limitations  on  the  liberty  of  the  press :  "They 
tell  me,"  says  Figaro,  "that  if  in  my  writing  I  will  men- 
tion neither  the  government,  nor  public  worship,  nor 
politics,  nor  morals,  nor  people  in  office,  nor  influential 
corporations,  nor  the  Opera,  nor  the  other  theatres,  nor 
anybody  that  belongs  to  anything,  I  may  print  everything 
freely,  subject  to  the  approval  of  two  or  three  censors." 
"How  I  should  like  to  get  hold  of  one  of  those  people 
that  are  powerful  for  a  few  days,  and  that  give  evil  orders 
so  lightly,  after  a  good  reverse  of  favor  had  sobered  him 
of  his  pride  !  I  would  tell  him,  that  foolish  things  in  print 
are  important  only  where  their  circulation  is  interfered 
with ;  that  without  freedom  to  blame,  no  praise  is  flattering, 
and  that  none  but  little  men  are  afraid^of  little  writings." 

The  "Marriage  of  Figaro"  was  accepted  by  the  great 
Parisian  theatre,  the  Comedie  Franc^aise,  toward  the  end 
of  1781.  The  wit  of  the  piece  itself  and  the  notoriety  of 
the  author  made  its  success  almost  inevitable.  The  per- 
mission of  the  censor  was  of  course  necessary  before  the 
play  could  be  put  on  the  boards ;  but  the  first  censor  to 
whom  the  work  was  submitted  pronounced  that,  with  a 
few  alterations,  it  might  be  given.    The  piece  was  already 


328     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

exciting  much  attention.  As  an  advertisement,  Beau- 
marchais  had  read  it  aloud  in  several  houses  of  note.  It 
was  the  talk  of  the  town  and  of  the  court.  The  nobles 
were  enchanted.  To  be  laughed  at  so  wittily  was  a  new 
sensation.  Old  Maurepas,  the  prime  minister,  heard  the 
play  and  spoke  of  it  to  his  royal  master.  The  king's 
curiosity  was  excited.  He  sent  for  a  copy,  and  the 
queen's  waiting  woman,  Madame  Campan,  was  ordered 
to  be  at  Her  Majesty's  apartment  at  three  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon,  but  to  be  sure  and  take  her  dinner  first,  as  she 
would  be  kept  a  long  time. 

At  the  appointed  hour,  Madame  Campan  found  no  one 
in  the  chamber  but  the  king  and  the  queen.  A  big  pile 
of  manuscript,  covered  with  corrections,  was  on  the  table. 
As  Madame  Campan  read,  the  king  frequently  interrupted. 
He  praised  some  passages,  and  blamed  others  as  in  bad 
taste.  At  last,  however,  near  the  end  of  the  play,  occurred 
the  long  soliloquy  in  which  Figaro  has  brought  together 
his  bitterest  complaints.  Early  in  the  scene  there  is  a 
description  of  the  arbitrary  imprisonment  which  was  so 
common  in  those  days.  "A  question  arises  concerning 
the  nature  of  riches,"  says  Figaro,  "and  as  you  do  not 
need  to  have  a  thing  in  order  to  talk  about  it,  I,  who  have 
not  a  penny,  write  on  the  value  of  money  and  its  net 
product.  Presently,  from  the  inside  of  a  cab,  I  see  the 
drawbridge  of  a  prison  let  down  for  me ;  and  leave,  as  I 
go  in,  both  hope  and  liberty  behind."  On  hearing  this 
tirade.  King  Louis  XVI.  leaped  from  his  chair,  and  ex- 
claimed :  "  It  is  detestable ;  it  shall  never  be  played  !  Not 
to  have  the  production  of  this  play  a  dangerous  piece  of 
inconsistency,  we  should  have  to  destroy  the  Bastille. 
This  man  makes  sport  of  everything  that  should  be  re- 
spected in  a  government." 

"Then  it  will  not  be  played?  "  asked  the  queen. 
"Certainly  not !  "  answered  Louis;   "you  may  be  sure 
of  it." 


THE   PAMPHLETS.  329 

For  two  years  a  contest  was  kept  up  between  the  king  of 
France  and  the  dramatic  author  as  to  whether  the  "Mar- 
riage of  Figaro"  should  be  acted  or  not.     The  king  had 
on  his  side  absohite  power  to  forbid  the  performance  or  to 
impose  any  conditions  he  pleased;  but  he  stood  almost 
alone  in  his  opinion,  and  Louis  XVI.  never  could  stand 
Ions:  alone.      The  author  had  for  auxiliaries  some  of  the 
princes,   most  of  the  nobility,   the  court  and  the  town. 
Public  curiosity  was  aroused,  and  no  one  knew  better  than 
Beaumarchais  how  to  keep  it  awake.     He  continued  to 
read  the  play  at  private  parties,  but  it  required  so  much 
besfa'injr  to  induce  him  to  do  so  that  the  favor  never  be- 
came  a  cheap  one.     Those  people  who  heard  it  were  loud 
in  its  praise,  and  less  favored  persons  talked  of  tyranny 
and  oppression,  because  they  were  not  permitted  to  see 
themselves  and  their  neighbors  delightfully  laughed  at  by 
Figfaro.     Poor  Louis  held  out  against  the  solicitations  of 
the  people  about  him  with  a  pertinacity  which  he  seldom 
showed  in  greater  matters.  At  last  his  resolution  weak- 
ened, and  permission  was  accorded  to  play  the  piece  at  a 
private  entertainment  given  by  the  Count  of  Vaudreuil. 
After  that,  the  public  performance  became  only  a  question 
of  time  and  of  the  suppression  of  obnoxious  passages.     On 
the  27th  of  April,  1784,  the  theatre-goers  of  Paris  thronged 
from  early  morning  about  the  doors  of  the  Comedie  Fran- 
^aise ;  three  persons  were  crushed  to  death ;  great  ladies 
dined  in  the  theatre,  to  keep  their  places.     At  haK  past 
five  the  curtain  rose.     The   success  was  unbounded,   in 
spite  of  savage  criticism,  which  spared  neither  the  play 
nor  the  author.^ 

As  the  people  of  Paris  liked  violent  language,  they  also 
enjoyed  opposition  to  the  government,  whatever  form  that 
opposition  might  assume.  The  Parliament,  as  we  have 
seen,  although  contending  for  privileges  and  against  mea- 

1  Campan,  i.  277.  Lomdnie,  Beaumarchais^  ii.  293.  Grimm,  xiii. 
517.     La  Harpe,  Corresp.  Hit.  iv.  227. 


330     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

sures  beneficial  to  most  people  in  the  country,  was  yet 
popular,  for  it  was  continually  defying  the  court.  But 
many  privileged  persons  went  farther  than  the  conserva- 
tive lawyers  of  the  city.  It  was  indeed  such  people  who 
took  the  lead  both  in  proclaiming  equality  and  in  de- 
nouncing courtiers.  From  the  nobility  and  the  rich  citi- 
zens of  Paris,  discontent  with  existing  conditions  and  the 
habit  of  opposition  to  constituted  authorities  spread  to 
the  lower  classes  and  to  the  inhabitants  of  provincial 
towns. 

Louis  XYI.  had  not  been  long  on  the  throne  when  a 
series  of  events  occurred  in  a  distant  part  of  the  world 
which  excited  in  a  high  degree  both  the  spirit  of  insubor- 
dination and  the  love  of  equality  in  French  minds.  The 
American  colonies  of  Great  Britain  broke  into  open  re- 
volt, and  presently  declared  their  independence  of  the 
mother  country.  The  sympathy  of  Frenchmen  was  almost 
universal  and  was  loudly  expressed.  Here  was  a  nation 
of  farmers  constituting  little  communities  that  Rousseau 
might  not  have  disowned,  at  least  if  he  had  looked  at 
them  no  nearer  than  across  the  ocean.  They  were  in  arms 
for  their  rights  and  liberties,  and  in  revolt  against  arbi- 
trary power.  And  the  oppressor  was  the  king  of  Eng- 
land, the  monarch  of  the  nation  that  had  inflicted  on 
France,  only  a  few  years  before,  a  humiliating  defeat. 
Much  that  was  generous  in  French  character,  and  much 
that  was  sentimental,  love  of  liberty,  admiration  of  equal- 
ity, hatred  of  the  hereditary  enemy,  conspired  to  favor  the 
cause  of  the  "Insurgents."  The  people  who  wished  for 
political  reforms  could  point  to  the  model  commonwealths 
of  the  New  World.  Their  constitutions  were  translated 
into  French,  and  several  editions  were  sold  in  Paris. ^ 
The  people  that  adored  King  Louis  could  cry  out  for  the 

^  Recueil  des  loix  constitutives.  Constitutions  des  treize  Etats  Uni^ 
de  VAmerique.  Franklin  to  Samuel  Cooper,  May  1,  1777.  Works^ 
vi.  96. 


THE   PAMPHLETS.  331 

abasement  of  King  George.  A  few  prudent  heads  in 
high  places  were  shaken  at  the  thought  of  assisting  rebel- 
lion. The  Emperor  Joseph  II.,  brother-in-law  to  the 
king  of  France,  was  not  quite  the  only  man  whose  business 
it  was  to  be  a  royalist.  Ministers  might  deprecate  war 
on  economical  grounds,  and  advise  that  just  enough  help 
be  given  to  the  Americans  to  prolong  their  struggle  with 
England  until  both  parties  should  be  exhausted.  But  the 
heart  of  the  French  nation  had  gone  into  the  war.  It 
was  for  the  sake  of  his  own  country  that  the  Count  of 
Vergennes,  the  foreign  minister  of  Louis  XVI.,  induced 
her  to  take  up  arms  against  Great  Britain,  and  in  the 
negotiations  for  peace  he  would  willingly  have  sacrificed 
the  interests  of  his  American  to  those  of  his  Spanish 
allies ;  yet  the  part  taken  by  France  was  the  almost  in- 
evitable result  of  the  sympathy  and  enthusiasm  of  the 
French  nation.  Never  was  a  war  not  strictly  of  defense 
more  completely  national  in  its  character.  Frenchmen 
fought  in  Virginia  because  they  loved  American  ideas, 
and  hated  the  enemy  of  America.^ 

Thus  France,  while  still  an  absolute  monarchy,  under- 
took a  war  in  defense  of  political  rights.  Such  an  action 
could  not  be  without  results.  Writers  of  a  later  time, 
belonging  to  the  monarchical  party,  have  not  liked  the 
results  and  have  blamed  the  course  of  the  French  upper 
classes  in  embarking  in  the  war.  But  it  was  because  they 
were  already  inclined  to  revolutionary  ideas  in  politics  that 
the  nobility  did  so  embark.  Poor  Louis  was  dragged 
along,  feebly  protesting.  He  was  no  radical,  and  to  him 
change  could  mean  nothing  but  harm ;  if  it  be  harm  to  be 
deprived  of  authority  beyond  your  strength,  and  of  re- 
sponsibility exceeding  your  moral  power.  The  war,  in  its 
turn,  fed  the  prevailing  passions.  Young  Frenchmen, 
who  had  first  become  warlike  because  they  were  adventur- 
ous and  high-spirited,  adopted  the  cries  of  "liberty''  and 
^  Rosenthal,  A  merica  and  France,  —  an  excellent  monograph. 


332     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

"equality  "  as  the  watchwords  of  the  struggle  into  which 
they  entered,  and  were  then  interested  to  study  the  prin- 
ciples which  they  so  loudly  proclaimed.  Voltaire,  Rous- 
seau, d'Alembert,  even  Montesquieu,  became  more  widely 
read  than  ever.  Officers  returning  from  the  capture  of 
Yorktown  were  flushed  with  success  and  ready  to  praise 
all  they  had  seen.  They  told  of  the  simplicity  of  repub- 
lican manners,  of  the  respect  shown  for  virtuous  women. 
Even  Lauzun  forgot  to  be  lewd  in  speaking  of  the  ladies 
of  Newport.  So  unusual  a  state  of  mind  could  not  last 
long.  A  reaction  set  in  after  the  peace  with  England. 
Anglomania  became  the  ruling  fashion.  The  change 
was  more  apparent  than  real.  London  was  nearer  than 
Philadelphia  and  more  easily  visited.  Political  freedom 
existed  there  also,  if  not  in  so  perfect  a  form,  yet  in  one 
quite  as  well  suited  to  the  tastes  of  fashionable  young 
men.  Had  not  Montesquieu  looked  on  England  as  the 
model  state  ?  ^ 

Thus  English  political  ideas  were  adopted  with  more  or 
less  accuracy  and  were  accompanied  by  English  fashions : 
horses  and  horseracing,  short  stirrups,  plain  clothes,  linen 
dresses,  and  bread  and  butter.  Clubs  also  are  an  Eng- 
lish invention.  The  first  one  in  Paris  was  opened  in 
1782.  The  Duke  of  Chartres  had  recently  cut  down  the 
trees  of  his  garden  to  build  the  porticoes  and  shops  of 
the  Palais  Royal.  The  people  who  had  been  in  the  habit 
of  lounging  under  the  trees  were  thus  dispossessed.  A 
speculator  opened  a  reading-room  for  their  benefit,  and 
provided  them  with  newspapers,  pamphlets,  and  current 
literature.     The  duke  himself  encouraged  the  enterprise, 

1  Segnr,  i.  87.  The  French  officers  who  were  in  the  Revolutionary 
war  often  express  dissatisfaction  with  the  Americans,  but  their  voices 
appear  to  have  been  drowned  in  France  in  the  chorus  of  praise. 
See  Kalb's  letters  to  Broglie  in  Stevens's  MSS.,  vii.,  and  Mauroy  to 
Broglie,  ibid.,  No.  838.  The  foreign  politics  of  the  reign  of  Louis 
XVI.  are  admirably  considered  by  Albert  Sorel,  UEurope  et  la 
Revolution  franfaisCf  i.  297. 


THE   PAMPHLETS.  333 

and  overcame  the  resistance  which  the  police  naturally- 
made  to  any  new  project.  The  reading-room,  which 
seems  to  have  had  a  regular  list  of  subscribers,  was  called 
the  Political  Club.  In  spite  of  the  name,  the  regulations 
of  the  police  forbade  conversation  within  its  walls  on  the 
subjects  of  religion  and  politics ;  but  such  rules  were  sel- 
dom enforced  in  Paris.  Other  clubs  were  soon  founded, 
some  large  and  open,  some  small  and  private.  A  certain 
number  of  them  took  the  name  of  literary,  scientific, 
or  benevolent  associations.  Some  appear  to  have  been 
secret  societies  with  oaths  and  pledges.  The  habit  of 
talking  about  matters  of  government  spread  more  and 
more.^ 

It  was  on  the  approach  of  the  meeting  of  the  Estates 
General  that  the  habit  of  political  reading  assmned  the 
greatest  importance.  In  the  latter  part  of  1788  and  the 
earlier  months  of  1789  a  deluge  of  pamphlets,  such  as  the 
world  had  not  seen  and  is  never  likely  to  see  again,  burst 
over  Paris.  The  newspapers  of  the  day  were  few  and 
completely  under  the  control  of  the  government,  but 
French  heads  were  seething  with  ideas.  In  vain  the  ad- 
ministration and  the  courts  made  feeble  attempts  to  limit 
the  activity  of  the  press.  From  the  princes  of  the  blood 
royal  (who  issued  a  reactionary  manifesto),  to  the  most 
obscure  writer  who  might  hope  for  a  moment's  notoriety, 
all  were  rushing  into  print.  The  booksellers'  shops  were 
crowded  from  morning  until  night.  The  price  of  printing 
was  doubled.  One  collector  is  said  to  have  got  together 
twenty-five  hundred  different  political  pamphlets  in  the 

1  Chdrest,  ii.  101.  Droz,  i.  326.  See  in  Brissot  ii.  415,  an  account 
of  a  club  to  discuss  political  questions,  under  pretense  of  studying 
animal  magnetism.  Lafayette,  d'Esprdsraenil,  and  others  were 
members.  Their  ideas  were  vague  enough.  Brissot  was  for  a  re- 
public, D'Espr^smenil  for  giving  the  power  to  the  Parliament, 
Bergasse  for  a  new  form  of  government  of  which  he  was  to  be  the 
Lycurgus.  Morellet,  i.  34G.  Lameth,  i.  34  n.  Sainte-Beuve,  x.  104 
{Senac  de  Meilhan). 


334     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

last  months  of  1788,  and  to  have  stopped  in  despair  at 
the  impossibility  of  completing  his  collection.^ 

In  most  political  crises  there  is  but  one  great  question 
of  the  hour;  but  in  France  at  this  time  all  matters  of 
government  and  social  life  were  in  doubt ;  and  every  man 
believed  that  he  could  settle  them  all  by  the  easy  and 
speedy  application  of  pure  reason,  if  only  all  other  men 
would  lay  down  their  prejudices.  And  a  special  subject 
was  not  wanting.  The  question  which  called  loudest  for 
an  answer  was  that  of  representation.  Should  there  be  one 
chamber  in  the  Estates  General,  in  which  the  Commons 
should  have  a  number  of  votes  equal  to  that  of  the  other 
two  orders  combined,  or  should  there  be  three  chambers  ? 
This  matter  (which  is  more  particularly  discussed  in  the 
next  chapter)  and  the  general  political  constitution  occu- 
pied the  chief  attention  of  the  pamphleteers,  but  law 
reform  and  feudal  abuses  were  not  forgotten. 

The  pamphlets  came  from  all  quarters  and  bore  all 
sorts  of  titles.  "Detached  Thoughts;"  "The  Forty 
Wishes  of  the  Nation;"  "What  has  surely  been  forgot- 
ten;" "Discourse  on  the  Estates  General;  "  "Letter  of  a 
Burgundian  Gentleman  to  a  Breton  Gentleman,  on  the 
Attack  of  the  Third  Estate,  the  Division  of  the  Nobility, 
and  the  Interest  of  the  Husbandmen ;  "  "Letter  of  a  Peas- 
ant;" "Plan  for  a  Matrimonial  Alliance  between  Mon- 
sieur Third  Estate  and  Madam  Nobility;"  "When  the 
Cock  crows,  look  out  for  the  Old  Hens;  "  "Ultimatum  of 
a  Citizen  of  the  Third  Estate  on  the  Memoire  of  the 
Princes;"  "Te  Deum  of  the  Third  Estate  as  it  will  be 
sung  at  the  First  Mass  of  the  Estates  General,  with  the 
Confession  of  the  Nobility;"  "Creed  of  the  Third  Es- 
tate;" "Magnificat  of  the  Third  Estate;"  and  "Requiem 
of  the  Farmers  General." 

1  Droz,  ii.  93.  "  Thirteen  came  out  to-day,  sixteen  yesterday,  and 
ninety-two  last  week."  A.  Young,  i.  118  (June  9,  1789).  Cher* 
est.  ii.  248,  etc. 


THE   PAMPHLETS.  335 

The  pamphlets  are  generally  anonymous,  from  a  linger- 
ing fear  of  the  police.  The  place  of  printing  is  seldom 
mentioned;  at  least,  few  of  the  pamplilets  bear  the  true 
one.  The  imprint,  where  one  appears,  is  London, 
Ispahan,  or  Concordopolis.  One  humorous  and  distinctly 
libelous  publication  is  "sold  at  the  Islands  of  Saint  Mar- 
garet, and  distributed  gratis  at  Paris."  The  pamphlet 
entitled  "Diogenes  and  the  Estates  General "  is  "sold  by 
Diogenes  in  his  Tub." 

In  spite  of  the  stringent  orders  against  printed  attacks 
on  the  government,  in  spite  of  the  spasmodic  activity  of 
the  police,  the  boldness  of  some  of  the  pamphlets  is  re- 
markable. One  of  them,  for  instance,  begins  as  follows : 
"There  was  once,  I  know  not  where,  a  king  born  with  an 
upright  spirit  and  a  heart  that  loved  justice,  but  a  bad 
education  had  left  his  good  qualities  uncultivated  and  use- 
less." The  king  is  then  accused  of  eating  and  hunting 
too  much,  and  of  swearing.  And  when  we  pass  from 
personal  to  political  subjects  there  is  almost  no  limit 
to  the  rashness  of  the  pamphleteers.  It  was  not  the  most 
sane  and  judicious  part  of  the  nation  which  became  most 
conspicuous  by  its  writings  at  this  time  and  in  this  man- 
ner. The  pamphlets  are  noticeably  less  conservative 
than  the  cahiers,  which  were  likewise  produced  in  the 
spring  of  1789. 

Yet  the  subversionary  writers  were  not  left  to  occupy 
the  field  alone.  Nobles  and  magistrates  took  up  their 
pens  to  defend  old  institutions.  Moderate  men  tried  to 
get  a  hearing  in  behalf  of  peace  and  good  will.  But, 
alas,  the  old  constitution  was  a  dream.  France  was  in 
fact  a  despotism  with  civilized  traditions  and  with  a  few 
customs  that  had  almost  the  force  of  fundamental  laws, 
and  her  people  wanted  a  liberal  government.  As  to  the 
form  of  that  government  they  were  not  entirely  agreed; 
although  they  were  not  quite  so  subversionary  as  many  of 
the  pamplileteers  wished  them  to  be,  or  as  their  subse- 


336     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

quent  history  would  lead  us  to  believe  them  to  have  been. 
But  no  leader  appeared,  for  a  long  time,  strong  enough 
to  dominate  the  factions  and  to  keep  the  peace. 

Of  the  mass  of  political  literature  which  saw  the  light 
in  1788  and  1789,  three  lines  only  are  commonly  remem- 
bered. They  are  on  the  first  page  of  a  pamphlet  by  the 
famous  Abbe  Sieyes.  Of  the  many  persons  who  in  our 
own  time  have  wondered  how  to  pronounce  his  name,  all 
are  aware  that  he  asked  and  answered  the  following  ques= 
tions :  — 

"(1.)  What  is  the  Third  Estate?     Everything. 
"(2.)  What  has  it  been  hitherto  in  the  political  order? 
Nothing. 

"(3.)  What  does  it  ask?     To  become  something." 
Few  have  followed  him  farther  in  his  inquiries.     Yet 
his  pamphlet  excited  great  interest  and  admiration  in  its 
day.     It  is  an  eloquent  and  well-written  paper,  as  strong 
in  rhetoric  as  it  is  weak  in  statesmanship. 

In  agriculture,  manufactures,  and  trade,  and  in  those 
services  which  are  directly  useful  and  agreeable  to  per- 
sons, and  which  include  the  most  distinguished  scientific 
and  literary  professions  and  the  most  menial  service,  the 
Commons,  according  to  Sieyes,  do  all  the  work.  In  the 
army,  the  church,  the  law,  and  the  administration  of  gov- 
ernment, they  furnish  nineteen  twentieths  of  the  men 
employed,  and  these  do  all  that  is  really  onerous.  Only 
the  lucrative  and  honorary  places  are  occupied  by  mem- 
bers of  the  nobility.  These  upper  places  would  be  infin- 
itely better  filled  if  they  were  the  rewards  of  talents  and 
services  recognized  in  the  lower  ranks.  The  Third  Estate 
is  quite  able  to  do  all  that  is  needful.  Were  the  privi- 
leged orders  taken  away,  the  nation  would  not  be  some- 
thing less  than  it  is,  but  something  more. 

"What  is  a  nation?  "  asks  Sieyes;  and  he  answers  that 
it  is  "a  body  of  associates  living  together  under  a  common 
law  and  represented  by  the  same  legislature."     But  the 


THE   PAMPHLETS.  337 

order  of  the  nobility  has  privileges,  dispensations,  differ- 
ent rights  from  the  great  body  of  the  citizens.  It  is  out- 
side of  the  common  order  and  the  common  law.  It  is  a 
state  within  a  state. 

The  Third  Estate,  therefore,  embraces  everything  which 
belongs  to  the  nation ;  and  all  that  is  not  a  part  of  the 
Commons  cannot  be  considered  a  part  of  the  nation. 
What,  then,  is  the  Third  Estate?     Everything. 

What  has  the  Third  Estate  hitherto  been?  Nothing. 
It  is  but  too  true  that  you  are  nothing  in  France  if  you 
have  only  the  protection  of  the  common  law.  AVithout 
some  privilege  or  other,  you  must  make  up  your  mind 
to  suffer  contempt,  contumely,  and  all  sorts  of  vexation. 
The  unfortunate  j^erson  who  has  no  privileges  of  his  own 
can  only  attach  himself  to  some  great  man,  by  all  sorts  of 
meanness,  and  thus  get  the  chance,  on  occasion,  to  de- 
mand the  assistance  of  somehody. 

What  does  the  Third  Estate  ask?  To  become  some- 
thing in  the  state.  And  in  truth  the  people  asks  but  little. 
It  wants  true  representatives  in  the  Estates,  taken  from 
its  own  order,  able  to  interpret  its  wishes,  and  defend 
its  interests.  But  what  would  it  gain  by  taking  part  in 
the  Estates  General,  if  its  own  side  were  not  to  prevail 
there?  It  must,  therefore,  have  an  influence  at  least 
equal  to  that  of  the  privileged  orders ;  it  must  have  half 
the  representatives.  This  equality  would  be  illusory  if 
the  chambers  voted  separately ;  therefore,  the  voting  must 
be  by  heads.  Can  the  Third  Estate  ask  for  less  than 
this?  And  is  it  not  clear  that  if  its  influence  is  less  than 
that  of  the  privileged  orders  combined,  there  is  no  hope 
of  its  emerging  from  its  political  nullity  and  becoming 
something? 

Sieyes  goes  on  to  argue  that  the  Third  Estate  should 
be  allowed  to  choose  its  representatives  only  from  its  own 
body.  He  has  persuaded  himself,  by  what  seems  to  be  a 
process  of  mental  juggling,  that  men  of  one  order  cannot 


838     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

be  truly  represented  by  men  of  another.  Suppose,  he 
says,  that  France  is  at  war  with  England,  and  that  hostil- 
ities are  conducted  on  our  side  by  a  Directory  composed 
of  national  rei^resentatives.  In  that  case,  I  ask,  would 
any  province  be  permitted,  in  the  name  of  freedom,  to 
choose  for  its  delegates  to  the  Directory  the  members  of 
the  English  ministry?  Surely  the  privileged  classes  shov/ 
themselves  no  less  hostile  to  the  common  order  of  people, 
than  the  English  to  the  French  in  time  of  war. 

Three  further  questions  are  stated  by  Sieyes. 

(4.)  What  the  ministers  have  attempted  and  what  the 
privileged  classes  propose  in  favor  of  the  Third  Estate? 

(5.)  What  should  have  been  done? 

(6.)  What  is  still  to  be  done? 

Under  the  fourth  head,  Sieyes  considers  the  Provincial 
Assemblies  recently  established,  and  the  Assembly  of 
Notables,  both  of  which  he  considers  entirely  incapable  of 
doing  good,  because  they  are  composed  of  privileged  per- 
sons. He  scorns  the  proposal  of  the  nobility  to  pay  a 
fair  share  of  the  taxes,  being  unwilling  to  accept  as  a 
favor  what  he  wishes  to  take  as  a  right.  He  fears  that 
the  Commons  will  be  content  with  too  little  and  will  not 
sweep  away  all  privilege.  He  attacks  the  English  Con- 
stitution, which  the  liberal  nobles  of  France  were  in  the 
habit  of  setting  up  as  a  model,  saying  that  it  is  not  good 
in  itself,  but  only  as  a  prodigious  system  of  props  and 
makeshifts  against  disorder.  The  right  of  trial  by  jury 
he  considers  its  best  feature. 

He  then  passes  to  the  question :  What  should  have  been 
done?  and  here  he  gives  us  the  foundation  of  his  system. 
Without  naming  Kousseau  he  has  adopted  the  Social 
Compact  as  the  basis  of  government.  A  nation  is  made 
up  of  individuals ;  these  unite  to  form  a  community ;  for 
convenience  they  depute  persons  to  represent  them  and 
to  exercise  the  common  power. ^     The  constitution  of  the 

1  It  need  hardly  be  pointed  out  that  Sieyes  falls  short  of  the  full 


THE   PAMPHLETS.  339 

state  is  the  body  of  rules  by  which  these  representatives 
are  governed  when  they  legislate  or  administer  the  public 
affairs.  The  constitution  is  fundamental,  not  as  binding 
the  national  will,  but  only  as  binding  the  bodies  existing 
within  the  state.  The  nation  itself  is  free  from  all  such 
bonds.  No  constitution  can  control  it.  Its  will  cannot 
be  limited.  The  nation  assembling  to  consider  its  con- 
stitution is  not  controlled  by  ordinary  forms.  Its  dele- 
gates meeting  for  that  especial  purpose  are  independent  of 
the  constitution.  They  represent  the  national  will,  and 
questions  are  settled  by  them  not  in  accordance  with 
constitutional  laws,  but  as  they  might  be  in  a  meeting 
of  the  whole  nation  were  it  small  enough  to  be  brought 
together  in  one  place ;  that  is  to  say,  by  a  vote  of  the 
majority.^ 

But  where  find  the  nation  ?  Where  it  is :  in  the  forty 
thousand  parishes  which  comprise  all  the  territory  and  all 
the  inhabitants  of  the  country.  They  should  have  been 
arranged  in  groups  of  twenty  or  thirty  parishes,  and  have 
thus  formed  representative  districts,  which  should  have 
united  to  make  provinces,  which  should  have  sent  true 
delegates,  with  special  power  to  settle  the  constitution  of 
the  Estates  General. 

This  correct  course  has  not  been  followed,  but  what 
now  remains  to  be  done?  Let  the  Commons  assemble 
apart  from  the  other  orders.  Let  them  join  with  the 
Nobility  and  the  Clergy  neither  by  orders,  as  a  part  of  a 
legislature  of  three  chambers,  nor  by  heads,  in  one  com- 
mon assembly.  Two  courses  are  open.  Either  let  them 
appeal  to  the  nation  for  increased  powers,  wliich  would 

measure  of  Rousseau's  doctrine  when  he  allows  the  law  -  making, 
or  more  correctly  the  constitution-making  power,  to  be  delegated 
at  all. 

^  Siey^s  and  his  master  do  not  see  tliat  if  unanimity  cannot  be 
secured,  and  if  constitutional  law  be  once  done  away,  men  are  reduced 
under  their  system  to  a  state  of  nature,  and  the  will  of  a  majority 
has  no  binding  force  but  that  of  the  strong  arm. 


340     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

be  the  most  frank  and  generous  way ;  or  let  tliem  only 
consider  the  enormous  difference  that  exists  between  the 
assembly  of  the  Third  Estate  and  that  of  the  other  two 
orders.  "The  former  represents  twenty -five  millions  of 
men  and  deliberates  on  the  interests  of  the  nation.  The 
other  two,  were  they  united,  have  received  their  powers 
from  but  about  two  hundred  thousand  individuals,  and 
think  only  of  their  privileges.  The  Third  Estate  alone, 
you  will  say,  cannot  form  the  Estates  General.  So  much 
the  better!     It  will  make  a  National  Assembly.''^ 

I  have  considered  this  famous  pamphlet  at  some 
length,  because  it  was  eminently  timely,  expressing,  as 
it  did,  the  doctrines  and  the  aspirations  of  the  subversion- 
ary  party  in  France.  I  believe,  and  principally  on  the 
evidence  of  the  cahiers,  that  this  party  did  not  form  a 
majority,  or  even,  numerically,  a  very  large  minority,  of 
the  French  nation.  A  constitutional  convention,  organ- 
ized from  the  Commons  alone  as  Sieyes  would  have  had 
it,  if  left  to  itself  and  uncontrolled  by  the  Parisian  mob, 
would  undoubtedly  have  settled  the  question  of  a  single 
chamber  in  a  popular  sense,  but  it  would  have  preserved 
the  privileges  of  the  nobility  to  an  extent  which  would 
have  disgusted  the  extremists,  and  perhaps  have  saved  the 
country  from  years  of  violence  and  decades  of  reaction. 
But  the  people  of  violent  ideas  were  predominant  in  Paris 
and  in  some  of  the  towns,  and  were  destined,  for  a  time, 
to  be  the  chief  force  in  the  French  Revolution.  The  pas- 
sions of  this  party  were  love  of  equality  and  hatred  of 
privilege.  To  men  of  this  stamp  despotism  may  be  com- 
paratively indifferent ;  liberty  is  a  word  of  sweet  sound, 
but  little  meaning.  Sieyes  hardly  refers  to  the  king  in 
his  pamphlet.  "The  time  is  past,"  he  says,  "when  the 
three  orders,  thinking  only  of  defending  themselves  from 
ministerial  despotism,  were  ready  to  unite  against  the 
common  enemy."  This  comparative  indifference  to  the 
tyranny  of  the  court  was  not  the  feeling  of  the  country, 


THE   PAMPHLETS.  341 

but  it  was  that  of  the  enthusiasts.  Nothing  is  too  bad 
according  to  these  last,  for  men  who  hold  privileges. 
They  have  no  right  to  assemblies  of  their  own,  nor  to  a 
voice  in  the  assemblies  of  the  people.  To  ask  what  place 
they  should  occupy  in  the  social  order  "is  to  ask  what  place 
should  be  assigned  in  a  sick  body  to  the  malignant  humor 
which  undermines  and  torments  it." 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

THE   CAHIERS. 

It  is  seldom,  indeed,  that  a  great  nation  can  express 
fully,  frankly,  and  yet  officially,  all  its  complaints,  wishes, 
and  hopes  in  respect  to  its  own  government.  Our  know- 
ledge of  national  ideas  must  generally  be  derived  from 
the  words  of  particular  classes  of  men:  statesmen,  politi- 
cians, authors,  or  writers  in  the  newspapers.  The  ideas 
of  these  classes  are  more  or  less  in  accord  with  those  of 
the  great  mass  of  the  people  which  they  undertake  to  rep- 
resent; yet  their  expressions  are  necessarily  tinged  by 
their  own  professional  way  of  looking  at  things.  But  in 
the  spring  of  1789  all  Frenchmen,  with  few  exceptions, 
were  called  on  to  unite,  not  merely  in  choosing  represen- 
tatives, but  in  giving  them  minute  instructions.  The 
occasion  was  most  solemn.  The  Estates  General,  the 
great  central  legislature  of  France,  which  had  not  met  for 
nearly  two  centuries,  was  summoned  to  assemble  at  Ver- 
sailles. It  should  be  the  old  body  and  something  more. 
It  was  to  partake  of  the  nature  of  a  constitutional  con- 
vention. It  was  not  only  to  legislate,  but  to  settle  the 
principles  of  government.  It  was  called  by  the  king  to 
advise  and  consent  to  all  that  might  concern  the  needs  of 
the  state,  the  reform  of  abuses,  the  establishment  of  a  fixed 
and  lasting  order  in  all  parts  of  the  administration,  the 
general  prosperity  of  his  kingdom,  and  the  welfare  of  all 
and  each  of  his  subjects.^ 

1  Royal  Letter  of  Convocation,  January  24,  1789,  ^.  P.  i.  611.  The 
principal  printed  collection  of  cahiers,  together  with  much  preliminary- 
matter,  may  be  found  in  the  first  six  volumes  of  the  Archives  Parle- 


THE   CAHIERS.  343 

The  three  orders  of  men,  the  Clergy,  the  Nobility,  and 
the  Commons,  or  Third  Estate,  were  to  hold  their  elec- 
tions separately  in  every  district,  ^  unless  they  should, 
by  separate  votes,  agree  to  unite. ^  In  accordance  with 
ancient  custom  they  were  to  draw  up  petitions,  com- 
plaints, and  remonstrances,  which  were  intended  to  form 
a  basis  for  legislation.  These  complaints  were  to  be 
brought  to  the  Estates,  and  were  to  serve  as  instructions, 
more  or  less  positive,  to  the  deputies  who  brought  them. 
They  were  known  in  French  political  language  as  Caliiers. 

The  cahiers  of  the  Clergy  and  of  the  Nobility  were 
drawn  up  in  the  electoral  meetings  which  took  place  in 
every  district.  To  these  local  assemblies  of  the  Clergy, 
all  bishops,  abbots,  and  parish  priests,  holding  benefices, 
were  smnmoned.  Chapters  and  monasteries  sent  only 
representatives.  The  result  of  this  arrangement  was  that 
the  parish  priests  far  outnumbered  the  regular  ecclesias- 
tics and  dignitaries,  and  that  the  clerical  cahiers  oftenest 
express  the  wishes  of  the  lower  portion  of  the  secular 
clergy.     This  preponderance  of  the  lower  clergy  appears 

mentaires,  edited  by  MM.  Mavidal  et  Laurent,  Paris.  The  seventh 
volume  consists  of  an  index,  which,  although  very  imperfect,  is 
necessary  to  an  intelligent  study  of  the  cahiers.  The  cahiers  printed 
in  these  volumes  occupy  about  4,000  large  octavo  pages  in  double 
column.  These  volumes  will  be  referred  to  in  this  chapter  and  the 
next  us  A.  P.  Many  cahiers  and  extracts  from  cahiers  are  also  found 
printed  in  other  places.  I  have  not  undertaken  to  give  references  to 
all  the  cahiers  on  which  my  conclusions  are  founded,  but  only  to  a 
few  typical  examples.  The  letters  C.,  N.,  and  T  indicate  the  three 
orders.  Where  no  such  letter  occurs  the  cahier  is  generally  that  of 
a  town  or  village. 

1  Baillage,  senechaussee. 

^  The  three  orders  did  not  often  unite,  but  there  is  often  evidence 
of  communication  between  them.  They  all  united  at  Bayonne,  A.  P. 
iii.  98.  Montfort  TAmaury,  A.  P.  iv.  37.  Rozieres,  A.  P.  iv.  91. 
Fenestrange,  A.  P.  v.  710.  Mohon,  A.  P.  v.  729.  Tlie  Clergy  and 
the  Nobility  united  at  Lixheim,  A.  P.  v.  713  ;  the  Nobility  and  the 
Third  Estate  at  Pdronne,  A .  P.  v.  355. 


344     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

to  have  been  foreseen  and  desired  by  the  royal  advisers. 
The  king  had  expressed  his  wish  to  call  to  the  assemblies 
of  the  Clergy  "all  those  good  and  faithful  pastors  who 
are  occupied  closely  and  every  day  with  the  poverty  and 
the  assistance  of  the  people  and  who  are  more  intimately 
acquainted  with  its  ills  and  its  apprehensions."  ^ 

To  the  local  assemblies  of  the  nobles,  all  Frenchmen  of 
the  order,  not  less  than  twenty-five  years  of  age,  were 
summoned.  Men,  women,  or  children  possessing  fiefs 
might  appear  by  proxy.  The  latter  provision  did  not 
suffice  to  take  the  meetings  out  of  the  control  of  the  more 
numerous  part  of  the  order,  —  the  poorer  nobility.  To 
pride  of  race  and  intense  loyalty  to  the  king,  these  coun- 
try gentlemen  united  distrust  and  dislike  of  the  court,  and 
the  desire  that  all  nobles  at  least  should  have  equal  rights 
and  chances.  Their  cahiers  differ  somewhat  from  place 
to  place,  but  are  wonderfully  alike  in  general  current. ^ 

For  the  Third  Estate  a  more  complicated  system  was 
adopted.  The  franchise  extended  to  every  French  sub- 
ject, neither  clerical  nor  noble,  twenty-five  years  of  age, 
and  entered  on  the  tax  roUs.^  Every  town,  parish,  or 
village,  drew  up  its  cahier  and  sent  it,  by  deputies,  either 
to  the  assembly  of  the  district  or  to  an  intermediate  assem- 
bly. Here  a  committee  was  appointed  to  consider  all  the 
local  cahiers  and  consolidate  them ;  those  of  the  interme- 
diate assemblies  being  again  worked  over  for  the  general 
cahier  of  the  Third  Estate  of  each  electoral  district. 
Thus  the  cahiers  of  the  Commons  finally  carried  to  the 
Estates  General  at  Versailles  were  less  directly  the  ex- 
pression of  the  opinions  of  the  order  from  which  they 

1  Reglement  du  24  Jan.  1789,  A.  P.  i.  644.  Parish  priests  were 
not  allowed  to  leave  their  parishes  to  go  to  the  assemblies  if  more 
than  two  leagues  distant,  unless  they  left  curates  to  do  their  work. 
But  this  provision  did  not  keep  enough  of  them  away  to  alter  the 
character  of  the  assemblies. 

2  N.,  Pdrigord,  A.  P.,  v.  341. 

3  In  Paris  only,  a  small  property  qualification  was  exacted. 


THE   CAHIERS.  345 

came  than  were  the  cahiers  of  the  Clergy  and  of  the  No- 
bility. Fortunately,  however,  large  numbers  of  the  pri- 
mary or  village  cahiers  have  been  preserved  and  printed. 

The  cahiers  of  the  Third  Estate  differ  far  more  among 
themselves  than  do  those  of  the  upper  orders.  Some  of 
them,  drawn  up  in  the  villages,  are  very  simple,  dealing 
merely  with  local  grievances  and  the  woes  of  peasant  life. 
The  long  absence  of  the  lord  of  the  place  causes  more  loss 
to  one  village  than  even  the  price  of  salt,  or  than  the  taille, 
with  which  the  people  are  overburdened.  Then  follows 
the  enumeration  of  broken  bridges,  of  pastures  overflowed 
because  the  bed  of  the  stream  is  obstructed,  of  robbery 
and  violence  and  refusal  of  justice,  with  no  one  to  protect 
the  poor,  nor  to  direct  repairs  and  improvements.  ^ 

In  another  place  we  have  the  touching  humility  of  the 
peasant.  "  The  inhabitants  of  this  parish  have  no  other 
complaints  to  make  than  those  which  are  common  to  folk 
of  their  rank  and  condition,  namely,  that  they  pay  too 
many  taxes  of  different  kinds  already ;  that  they  would 
wish  that  the  disorder  of  the  finances  might  not  be  the 
cause  of  new  burdens  upon  them,  because  they  were  not 
able  to  bear  any  more,  having  a  great  deal  of  trouble  to 
pay  those  which  are  now  levied,  but  that  it  much  rather 
belono^ed  to  those  who  are  rich  to  contribute  toward  set- 
ting  up  the  affairs  of  the  kingdom. 

"As  for  remonstrances,  they  have  no  other  wishes  nor 
other  desires  than  peace  and  public  tranquillity :  that  they 
wish  the  assembly  of  the  Estates  General  may  restore  the 
order  of  the  finances,  and  bring  about  in  France  the  or- 
der and  prosperity  of  the  state ;  that  they  are  not  skillful 
enoujrh  about  the  matters  which  are  to  be  treated  in  the 
said  assembly  to  give  their  opinion,  and  they  trust  to  the 
intelligence  and  the  gfood  intentions  of  those  who  will  be 
sent  there  as  deputies. 

"Finally,  that  they  know  no  means  of  providing  for 
1  Paroisse  de  Longpont,  A.  P.,  v.  334. 


346  THE   EVE   OF   THE   FRENCH   REVOLUTION. 

the  necessities  of  the  state,  but  a  great  economy  in  ex- 
penses and  reciprocal  love  between  the  king  and  his  sub- 
jects." ^ 

Not  many  of  the  cahiers  are  so  modest  as  this  one. 
Some  of  them  are  many  pages  long,  arranged  under  heads, 
divided  into  numbered  paragraphs.  These  contain  a  gen= 
eral  scheme  of  legislation,  and  often  also  particular  and 
local  petitions.  They  ask  that  such  a  lawsuit  be  reviewed, 
that  such  a  dispute  be  favorably  settled.  Many  localities 
complain,  not  only  that  the  country  in  general  is  over- 
taxed, but  that  their  particular  neighborhood  pays  more 
than  its  share.  Their  soil  is  poor,  they  say,  water  is 
scarce  or  too  plenty.  The  cahiers  of  the  country  villages 
contain  more  complaints  of  feudal  exactions,  while  those 
of  the  towns  and  of  the  electoral  districts  give  more  space 
to  political  and  social  reforms. 

Many  models  of  cahiers  were  prepared  in  Paris  and 
sent  to  the  country  towns.  Thus  the  famous  Abbe  Sieyes, 
whose  violent  doctrines  were  considered  in  the  last  chap- 
ter, composed  and  distributed  a  form.  It  was  brought  to 
Chaumont  in  Champagne  by  the  Viscount  of  Laval,  who 
undertook  to  manage  the  election  in  that  town  in  the  in- 
terest of  democracy  and  the  Duke  of  Orleans.  Dinners 
and  balls  were  given  to  the  voters ;  promises  were  made. 
The  badges  of  an  order  of  canonesses,  which  the  duke 
proposed  to  found,  were  distributed  among  the  ladies. 
The  abbe's  cahier  was  accepted,  but  the  peasants  of  Cham- 
pagne appended  to  its  demands  for  constitutional  reforms 
the  petition  that  their  dogs  might  not  be  obliged  to  carry 
a  log  fastened  to  their  collars  to  prevent  their  rimning 
after  game,  and  that  they  themselves  might  be  allowed  to 
have  guns  to  kill  the  wolves.^ 

Some  of  the  cahiers  were  entirely  of  home  manufacture, 

1  Paroisse  de  Pas-Sain t-Lomer,  A.  P.,  v.  334. 

2  Beugnot,  MemoireSj  i.  110. 


THE   CAHIERS.  347 

drawn  up  by  the  lawyer  or  the  priest  of  the  village.  The 
people  of  Essy-les-Nancy,  in  Lorraine,  describe  the  pro- 
cess. "Each  one  of  us  proposed  what  he  thought  proper, 
and  then  we  chose  our  deputies,  Imbert  Perrin  and  Jo- 
seph Jacques,  whom  we  thought  best  able  well  to  repre- 
sent us.  The  only  thing  left  was  to  express  our  wishes 
well,  and  to  draw  up  the  official  report  of  the  meeting. 
But  our  priest,  in  whom  we  trust,  who  feels  our  woes  so 
well,  and  who  expresses  our  feelings  so  rightly,  had  been 
obliged  to  go  away.  We  said:  'We  must  wait  for  him; 
we  will  first  beg  his  assistant  to  begin,  and  then,  when 
the  priest  comes  back,  we  will  give  him  the  whole  thing 
to  correct,  and  have  our  affairs  ready  to  be  taken  to  the 
assembly  of  the  district.'  He  came  back  in  fact;  we 
asked  him  to  draw  it  all  up.  We  told  him  all  we  wanted. 
He  kept  writing,  and  scratching  out,  and  writing  over, 
until  we  saw  that  he  had  got  our  ideas.  Everything 
seemed  ready  for  the  fifteenth.  But  we  heard  that  the 
district  assembly  would  be  put  off  until  the  thirtieth.  We 
said  to  him:  'Sir,  wait  again,  let  us  profit  by  the  delay, 
we  shall  think  of  something  more,  you  will  add  it ; '  he 
consented."^ 

There  was  evidently  some  concert  among  the  different 
districts,  but  also  much  freedom  and  originality.  There 
are  many  protests  on  the  part  of  minorities.  Bishops  or 
chapters  complain  of  clauses  which  attack  their  rights ; 
monasteries  remonstrate  against  the  proposed  diversion  of 
their  funds  to  pay  parish  priests.  Individuals  take  this 
opportunity  to  give  their  views  on  public  matters.  An 
old  officer  would  have  nobility  of  the  sword  confined  to 
families  in  which  the  men  bear  arms  in  every  generation. 
A  commoner,  having  bought  noble  lands,  complains  of 
the  additional  taxes  laid  on  him  on  this  account.  The 
peasants  of  Mcnil-la-Horgne  say  that  the  lawyers  have 
captui'ed  the  electoral  assembly  of  their  district,  and  cut 
1  Mathieu,  423. 


348     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

out  their  remonstrances  from  tlie  general  cahier;  that 
although  there  are  thirty-two  rural  communities  in  the 
bailiwick,  and  all  agreed,  the  six  deputies  of  the  towns 
have  managed  things  in  their  own  way ;  and  that  thus  the 
poor  inhabitants  of  the  country  can  never  bring  their 
wishes  to  the  notice  of  their  sovereign,  who  desires  their 
good,  and  takes  all  means  to  accomplish  it.^ 

The  meetings  in  which  the  cahiers  were  composed  were 
sometimes  stormy.  At  Nemours  the  economist  Dupont 
was  one  of  the  committee  especially  engaged  in  the  task. 
The  question  of  abolishing  the  old  courts  of  law  was  a 
cause  of  strong  feeling.  The  excitement  rose  so  high  that 
the  crowd  threatened  to  throw  Dupont  out  of  the  window. 
Matters  looked  serious,  for  the  room  was  a  flight  above 
ground,  the  window  was  already  open,  and  angry  men 
were  laying  hands  on  the  economist.  The  latter,  however, 
picked  out  one  inoffensive  person,  a  very  fat  man,  who 
happened  to  be  standing  by.  Dupont  managed  to  get 
near  him  and  suddenly  grasped  him  round  the  body. 
"What  do  you  want?"  cried  the  startled  fat  man. 
"Sir,"  answered  Dupont,  "every  one  for  himself.  They 
are  going  to  throw  me  out  of  the  window,  and  you  must 
serve  as  a  mattress."  The  crowd  laughed,  and  not  only 
let  Dupont  alone,  but  came  round  to  his  opinion,  and 
chose  him  deputy. ^ 

The  agreement  of  general  ideas  in  the  cahiers  is  all  the 
more  striking  on  account  of  the  diversity  in  their  details, 
and  of  the  freedom  of  discussion  and  protest  enjoyed  by 
those  concerned  in  composing  them.  They  have  been 
constantly  referred  to  by  writers  on  history,  politics,  and 

^  No  strict  line  appears  to  have  been  drawn  as  to  who  might  and 
who  might  not  properly  issue  a  cahier.  Jean  Baptiste  Lardier, 
seigneur  de  Saint-Gervais  de  Pierrefitte,  A.  P.  v.  17.  Messire  Carrd, 
A.  P.,  V.  21;  ^.P.  ii.  224. 

2  Another  politician  under  similar  circumstances  was  frightened 
out  of  the  room,  and  lost  all  political  influence.     Beugnot,  i.  118. 


THE   CAHIERS.  349 

economics  for  information  as  to  the  state  of  France  at  the 
time  when  they  were  written.  They  are,  indeed,  capable 
of  teaching  a  very  great  deal,  but  they  will  prove  mislead- 
ing if  the  purpose  for  which  they  were  composed  be  for- 
gotten. This  purpose  was  to  express  the  complaints  and 
desires  of  the  nation.  It  appears  in  their  very  name, 
"Cahiers  of  Lamentations,  Complaints,  and  Remon- 
strances." ^  We  must  not,  therefore,  look  to  the  cahiers 
for  mention  of  anything  good  in  the  condition  of  old 
France ;  and  we  must  remember  that  people  who  are  ad- 
vocating a  change  are  likely  to  bring  forward  the  worst 
side  of  the  things  they  wish  to  see  altered.  Two  political 
ideas  coexisted  in  the  minds  of  Frenchmen  in  1789  as 
to  what  they  and  their  Estates  General  were  to  do  and  to 
be.  They  were  to  resume  their  ancient  constitution. 
They  were  to  make  a  new  one,  in  accordance  with  reason 
and  justice.  Both  of  these  desires  may  well  be  present 
in  the  minds  of  practical  legislators,  even  if  their  recon- 
ciliation be  at  the  expense  of  strict  logic  and  historical 
accuracy.  But  unfortunately  the  historical  and  the  ideal 
constitutions  in  France  were  too  far  separated  to  be  easily 
united.  The  chasm  between  the  feudal  monarchy  grad- 
ually transformed  into  a  despotism,  which  had  existed, 
and  the  well  governed  limited  monarchy,  which  the  most 
judicious  Frenchmen  desired,  was  too  wide  to  be  bridged. 
"The  throne  of  France  is  inherited  only  in  the  male  line ;  " 
to  that  all  men  agreed.  They  agreed  also  that  all  exist- 
ing taxes  were  illegal,  because  they  had  not  been  allowed 
by  the  nation,  and  that  such  taxes  should  remain  in  force 
only  for  convenience,  and  for  a  limited  time,  unless  voted 
by  the  legislature.  The  legislative  power  resides,  or  is 
to  reside  in  the  king  and  the  nation,  the  latter  being 
represented  by  its  lawful  assembly  or  Estates  General;'* 
here  also  they  were  in  accord.     But  how  are  those  Estates 

^  The  titles  vary,  but  generally  bear  this  meaning. 

2  Some  say  in  the  Estates  General,  without  mentioning  the  king. 


350     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

General  to  be  composed  ?  "  Of  three  orders,  deliberating 
and  voting  separately,  tlie  concurrence  of  all  three  being 
necessary  to  the  passage  of  a  law,"  said  the  nobles.  "Of 
one  chamber,"  answered  the  Third  Estate,  "in  which  our 
numbers  are  to  be  equal  to  those  of  the  other  orders 
united,  and  in  which  the  vote  is  to  be  counted  by  heads." 
Here  was  the  first  and  most  dangerous  divergence  of  opin-= 
ion,  on  a  question  which  should  have  been  answered  be- 
fore it  was  even  fairly  asked,  by  the  king  who  called  the 
assembly.  But  neither  Louis  nor  Necker,  his  adviser, 
had  the  strength  and  foresight  to  settle  the  matter  on  a 
firm  basis  while  it  was  yet  time.  Were  the  old  form  of 
voting  by  three  chambers  intended,  it  was  folly  to  make 
the  popular  one  as  numerous  as  the  other  two  together. 
Were  a  new  form  of  National  Assembly,  with  only  one 
chamber,  to  be  brought  into  being,  it  was  culpable  to 
allow  the  old  orders  to  misunderstand  their  fall  from 
power.  "We  are  an  essential  part  of  the  monarchy," 
said  the  nobles.  "  We  are  twenty-three  twenty -fourths  of 
the  nation,  and  the  more  useful  part  at  that,"  retorted  the 
Commons.  "Our  claim  rests  on  law  and  history,"  cried 
the  one.  "And  ours  on  reason  and  justice,"  shouted  the 
other.  And  many  of  the  deputies  on  either  side  held  the 
positive  instructions  of  their  constituents  not  to  yield  in 
this  matter.  But  while  the  Commons  were  practically  a 
unit  on  this  question,  the  nobles  were  more  divided. 
About  half  of  them  insisted  on  their  ancient  rights,  de- 
claring, in  many  instances,  that  should  the  vote  by  heads 
be  adopted  their  deputies  were  immediately  to  retire  from 
the  Estates.  Others  wavered,  or  allowed  discussion  by 
a  single,  united  chamber  under  certain  circumstances,  or 
on  questions  which  did  not  concern  the  privileges  of  the 
superior  Orders.  In  a  few  provinces  the  nobles  frankly 
took  the  popular  side.  The  Clergy  joined  in  some  cases 
with  one  party,  in  some  with  the  other,  but  oftenest  gave 
no  opinion.  1 

^  I  have  found  one  cahier  of  the  Third  Estate  asking  for  the  vote 


THE   CAHIERS.  351 

The  caliiers  on  both  sides  took  this  question  as  settled, 
and  proceeded,  with  a  tolerable  agreement,  to  the  other 
parts  of  the  constitution.  The  king,  in  addition  to  his 
concurrence  in  legislation,  was  to  have  nominally  the  whole 
executive  power.  Many  are  the  expressions  of  love  and 
gratitude  for  Louis  XVI.  He  is  requested  to  adopt 
the  title  of  "Father  of  the  People,"  of  "Emulator  of 
Charlemagne."  In  the  latter  connection  we  are  treated 
to  a  bit  of  history.  It  appears  that  Egbert,  King  of 
Kent,  came  to  France  in  the  year  799,  to  learn  the  art 
of  reigning  from  Charlemagne  himself.  He  bore  back  to 
England  the  plan  of  the  French  constitution.  The  next 
year  he  acquired  the  kingdom  of  Wessex,  in  808  that  of 
the  Mercians,  and  in  time  his  reputation  brought  under  his 
rule  the  four  remaining  kingdoms  of  Great  Britain.  Thus 
it  is  the  basis  of  our  French  constitution  which  for  nearly 
a  thousand  years  has  made  the  happiness  and  strength  of 
all  England,  and  which  is  the  true  origin  of  the  rightful 
privileges  of  the  province  of  Brittany.^ 

The  royal  power  was  to  be  exercised  through  respon- 
sible ministers,  but  we  must  not  be  misled  by  words. 
The  ministerial  responsibility  contemplated  by  Frenchmen 
in  the  cahiers  was  something  quite  different  from  what  is 

by  orders.  T".,  Mantes  et  Meulan,  A.  P.,  iii.  666,  art.  4,  §  3.  A 
suggestion  of  two  coordinate  chambers,  in  one  cahier  of  the  Clergy 
and  Nobility,  and  in  one  of  the  Third  Estate.  T.,  Bigorre,  A.  P., 
ii.  359,  §  3. 

1  T.,  Ballainvilliers,  A.  P.,  iv.  336, art. 35.  Triel,  A.  P.y.  147,  art. 
104.  For  the  title  of  Pere  du  Peuple,  St.  Cloud,  A.  P.  v.  68.  Montai- 
gut,  A.P.v.  577.  T.,  Rouen,  A.  P.  y.  602.  T.,  Vannes,  A.  P.,  vi. 
107.  For  blessings  on  the  king  and  on  Neeker,  see  Mathieu,  425.  The 
sole  expression  of  disrespect  for  Louis  XVI.  which  I  have  found 
is  given  in  Beugnot,  i.  116.  "  Let  us  give  power  to  our  deputies  to 
solicit  from  our  lord  the  king  his  consent  to  the  above  requests  ;  in 
case  he  accords  them,  to  thank  him  ;  in  case  he  refuses,  to  unking  him  " 
(deroiter).  This,  according  to  Beugnot,  was  in  a  rural  cahier  and  he 
sewns  to  quote  from  memory.  The  pamphlets,  as  has  been  said,  were 
much  more  violent  than  the  cahiers. 


352  THE   EVE   OF   THE   FRENCH   REVOLUTION. 

known  by  that  name  in  modern  times.  Under  tlie  sys- 
tem of  government  which  was  forming  in  England  in  the 
last  century,  and  which  has  since  been  extensively  copied 
on  the  Continent,  the  ministers,  although  nominally  the 
advisers  of  the  king,  form  in  fact  a  governing  committee, 
selected  by  the  legislature  among  its  own  members.  The 
ministers  are  at  once  the  creatures  and  the  leaders  of  the 
Parliament  from  which  they  spring.  To  it  they  are  re- 
sponsible not  only  for  malfeasance  in  office,  but  for  mat- 
ters of  opinion  or  policy.  As  soon  as  they  are  shown  to 
be  in  disagreement  with  the  majority  of  their  fellow-mem- 
bers, they  fall  from  power ;  but  their  fall  is  attended  with 
no  disgrace,  and  no  one  is  shocked  or  astonished  to  see 
them  continue  to  take  part  in  public  life,  and  regain,  by  a 
turn  of  popular  favor,  those  places  which  they  may  have 
lost  almost  by  accident. 

The  idea  of  such  a  system  as  this  had  not  entered  the 
minds  of  the  Frenchmen  of  1789.  They  knew  ministers 
only  as  servants  of  a  monarch,  chosen  by  him  alone,  to 
carry  out  his  orders,  or  to  advise  him  in  affairs  of  which 
the  final  decision  lay  with  him.  They  knew  but  too  well 
that  kings  and  their  servants  are  sometimes  law-breakers. 
They  knew,  moreover,  that  their  own  actual  king  was 
weak  and  well-meaning.  The  pious  fiction  by  which  the 
king  was  always  spoken  of  as  good,  and  his  aberrations 
were  ascribed  to  defective  knowledge  or  to  bad  advice,  had 
taken  some  real  hold  on  the  popular  imagination.  The 
nation  felt  that  the  person  of  a  king  should  be  inviolable. 
But  the  breaches  of  law  committed  by  the  king's  unaided 
strength  could  not  be  far-reaching.  Frenchmen,  there- 
fore, desired  to  make  all  those  persons  responsible  who 
might  abet  the  king  in  illegal  acts,  or  who  might  commit 
any  such  acts  under  his  orders  or  in  his  name.  They 
feared  the  levy  of  illegal  taxes,  and  it  was  against  mal- 
feasance of  that  sort  that  they  especially  wished  to  pro- 
vide.    They  therefore   asked   in  their   cahiers   that   the 


THE   CAHIERS. 


353 


ministers  should  be  made  responsible  to  the  civil  tribunals 
or  to  the  Estates  General.  The  voters  did  not  conceive 
of  royal  ministers  as  members  of  their  legislature.  In 
fact,  some  cahiers  carefully  provided  that  deputies  shoidd 
accept  no  office  nor  favor  of  the  court  either  during  the 
continuance  of  their  service  in  the  Estates,  or  for  some 
years  thereafter.  The  demand  for  ministerial  responsi- 
bility was  a  demand  that  ministers,  and  their  master 
throudi  them,  should  be  amenable  to  law ;  and  was  in  the 
same  line  with  the  demand,  also  made  in  some  cahiers, 
that  soldiers  should  not  be  used  in  suppressing  riots,  ex- 
cept at  the  request  of  the  civil  power.  ^ 

It  was  universally  demanded  that  the  Estates  General 
should  meet  at  regular  intervals  of  two,  three,  or  five 
years,  and  should  vote  taxes  for  a  limited  time  only. 
Thus  it  was  hoped  to  keep  power  in  the  hands  of  the 
nation.  And  all  debates  were  to  be  public ;  the  proceed-, 
ings  were  to  be  reported  from  day  to  day.^  Such  provi- 
sions were  not  unnatural,  for  jealousy  and  distrust  are 
common  in  political  matters,  and  the  less  the  experience 
of  the  people,  the  greater  their  dread  of  plots  and  cabals. 
But  only  two  years  before  the  cahiers  were  drawn  up, 
another  nation,  which  it  had  recently  been  the  fashion 
much  to  admire  in  France,  had  appointed  its  deputies  to 
draw  up  its  constitution.  This  nation  was  at  least  as 
superior  to  the  French  in  political  experience  as  it  was 
inferior  in  the  arts  and  sciences  that  adorn  life.  Its 
attempts  at  constitution  making  might,  therefore,  well 
have  served  as  a  guide.  The  American  convention  of 
1787  had  many  difficulties  to  encounter  and  many  jeal- 
ousies to  excite;  but  these  were  less  threatening  than 
those  which  confronted  the  French  Estates.  Yet  in  Phil- 
adelphia precautions  had  been  taken  which  were  scorned 

1  r.,  St-Gervais  (Paris),  A.  P.,  v.  308,  §  3.  N.  Agenois,  A.  P.,  L 
680,  §  15.     Ch^rest,  ii.  475. 

2  ChdreBt,  ii.  401. 


354     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

at  Versailles.  The  American  deputies  did  not  number 
twelve  hundred,  but  less  than  sixty.  The  Americans  sat 
with  closed  doors,  and  exacted  of  each  other  a  pledge, 
most  religiously  kept,  that  their  proceedings  shoidd  be 
secret.  The  French  admitted  all  manner  of  persons,  not 
only  to  listen  to  their  debates,  but  to  applaud  and  hiss 
them.  Their  chamber  came  in  a  short  time  to  be  influ- 
enced, if  not  controlled,  by  its  galleries ;  so  that  France 
was  no  longer  governed  by  her  chosen  representatives,  but 
by  the  mob  of  her  capital.  The  American  deputies,  for  the 
most  part,  came  unpledged  to  their  work.  The  French 
in  many  instances  were  commanded  by  their  constituents 
to  retire  unless  such  and  such  of  their  demands  were  com- 
plied with.  The  American  constitution  was  accepted  with 
difficulty,  and  could  probably  never  have  been  accepted 
at  all  if  the  public  mind  had  been  inflamed  by  discussion 
of  each  part  before  the  whole  was  known.  That  constitu- 
tion, with  but  few  important  amendments,  is  to-day  re- 
garded with  a  veneration  incomprehensible  to  foreigners, 
by  a  nation  twenty  times  as  large  as  that  which  originally 
adopted  it.^  The  French  constitution  made  by  the  body 
which  met  in  1789,  with  the  name  of  Estates  General, 
Constituent,  or  National  Assembly,  was  hailed  with  clam- 
orous joy  by  a  part  of  the  nation,  and  met  with  angry 
incredulity  by  another  part.  Many  of  its  provisions 
have  remained ;  but  the  constitution  itself  did  not  last  two 
years.  Could  the  sober  deliberation  of  a  small  body  of 
authorized  men,  sitting  with  closed  doors,  have  produced 
in  France  in  1789  a  constitution  under  which  the  nation 
could  have  prospered,  and  which  could  have  been  grad- 
ually improved  and  adapted  to  modern  civilization  ?  Was 
the  enthusiasm  and  rush  of  a  large  popular  assembly  ne- 

1  An  eminent  foreign  historian  would  almost  seem  to  have  written 
his  book  on  the  Constitutional  History  of  tlie  United  States  for  the 
purpose  of  showing  that  a  man  may  know  all  about  a  subject  without 
understanding  it. 


THE   CAHIERS.  355 

cessary  to  overcome  the  interested  opposition  of  the  court 
and  the  weak  nervelessness  of  the  monarch?  It  will 
never  be  known.  Louis  XVI.  was  too  feeble  to  try  the 
experiment,  and  no  one  else  had  the  legal  authority. 

While  the  Estates  General  were  to  have  the  exclusive 
right  of  legislation,  and  France  was  thus  to  remain  a  cen- 
tralized monarchy,  Provincial  Estates  were  to  be  estab- 
lished all  over  the  country,  unless  where  local  bodies  of 
the  same  character  already  existed.  These  Provincial 
Estates  were  to  exercise  large  administrative  powers,  in 
the  assessment  and  levy  of  taxes,  in  laying  out  roads, 
granting  licenses,  encouraging  commerce  and  manvifac- 
tures.  It  was  the  prayer  of  many  of  the  cahiers  that 
offices  of  one  sort  and  another,  civil  or  military,  or  that 
nobility  itseK,  should  be  granted  only  on  the  nomination 
of  the  Provincial  Estates.  Many  cahiers  ask  for  elective 
municipal  or  village  authorities.  Many  would  sweep 
away  the  old  officers  of  the  crown,  the  intendants  and 
military  governors,  the  farmers  general,  and  the  very 
clerks.  These  men  were  hated  as  tax-gatherers,  and  dis- 
trusted as  members  of  the  old  ring  which  had  misgoverned 
the  country.  There  are,  says  one  cahier,  more  than  forty 
thousand  of  them  in  the  kingdom,  whose  sole  business  it 
is  to  vex  and  molest  the  king's  subjects,  by  false  decla- 
rations and  other  means,  and  all  for  the  hope  of  a  share  in 
the  fines  and  confiscations  that  may  be  exacted.^ 

It  is  a  mistake  to  assume  that  the  Frenchmen  of  1789 
cared  chiefly  for  civil  and  social  reforms,  and  only  inci- 
dentally for  reforms  of  a  political  character.  In  most  of 
the  cahiers  the  political  reforms  are  first  mentioned  and  are 
as  elaborately  insisted  on  as  any  others.     If  there  be  any 

1  T.,  Perche,  A .  P.,  v.  325,  §  13.  Several  cahiers  ask  that  the 
rights  and  privileges  of  the  old  Estates  of  the  Pays  (VEtats  be  retained. 
iV.,  Amont,  A.  P.,  i.  764.  Officers  of  government  called  "  vampires." 
Domfront.  A.P.,'\  724,  §  21.  See  also  T.,  Amiens,  ^.  P.,  i.  751,  §  40. 
Desjardius,  xxxix. 


356     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

difference  in  this  resjDect  among  the  Orders,  it  is  that  the 
Nobility  are  more  urgent  for  the  political  part  of  the  pro- 
gramme than  either  the  Clergy  or  the  Third  Estate.  The 
priests  were  much  occupied  with  their  own  affairs.  The 
peasantry  were  thinking  of  the  hardships  they  suffered. 
But  all  intelligent  men  felt  that  social  and  economic  re- 
forms would  be  unstable  unless  an  adequate  political 
reform  were  made  also.  The  deputies  of  the  three 
orders  were  in  many  cases  instructed  not  to  consider 
questions  of  state  debt  or  taxation  until  the  proposed  con- 
stitution had  been  adopted.  ^ 

Having  thus  fixed  the  legislative  power  in  the  Estates 
General,  and  divided  the  executive  and  administrative 
branches  of  the  government  between  the  king  with  his  re- 
sponsible ministers  and  the  Provincial  Estates,  the  cahiers 
turned  to  the  judicial  function.  On  the  reforms  to  be 
here  accomplished  there  was  substantial  agreement; 
although  the  Third  Order  was  most  emphatic  in  its  de- 
mands, as  the  expensive  and  complicated  machinery  of 
law  weighs  more  heavily  on  the  poor  than  on  the  rich,  on 
the  commercial  class  than  on  the  land-owner.  The  great 
influence  of  lawyers  among  the  Commons  at  this  time 
was  also  a  cause  of  the  attention  given  to  legal  mat- 
ters in  the  cahiers  of  the  Third  Estate.  The  common 
demand  was  for  the  simplification  of  courts  and  jurisdic- 
tions, the  abolition  of  the  purchase  of  judicial  place,  more 
uniform  laws  and  customs.  The  codification  of  the  laws, 
both  civil  and  criminal,  was  sometimes  called  for.  It  was 
an  usual  request  that  there  shoidd  be  only  two  degrees  in 
the  administration  of  justice:  a  simple  court  in  every 
district  of  sufficient  size  to  warrant  it,  and  parliaments  in 
reasonable  numbers,  with  final  appellate  jurisdiction. 
Commercial  courts  (consulats)  were,  however,  to  be  re- 
tained.    The  nation  was  unanimous  that  the  writ  of  com- 

1  T.,  Briey,  A,  P.,  ii.  204.  N.,  Ponthieu,  ^.  P.,  v.  431.  N.,  Agenois, 
A.  P.,  i.  680. 


THE   CAHIERS.  357 

mittimus,  by  which  cases  could  be  removed  by  privileged 
persons  from  the  regular  courts  to  be  tried  by  exceptional 
tribunals,  or  by  distant  parliaments,  should  be  totally 
abolished.  Justices  of  the  peace,  or  informal  courts  with 
summary  processes,  were  to  have  the  settlement  of  small 
cases.  The  jurisdiction  of  the  lords'  bailiffs  was  to  be 
much  abridged  or  entirely  done  away.^ 

In  the  criminal  law,  changes  were  recommended  in  the 
direction  of  giving  a  better  chance  to  accused  persons. 
Trials  were  to  be  prompt  and  public,  and  counsel  were  to 
be  allowed.  The  prisons  were  to  be  improved.  The 
Third  Estate  desired  that  punishment  should  be  the  same 
for  all  classes,  and  that  the  death  penalty  should  be  de- 
capitation, a  form  of  execution  which  had  previously  been 
reserved  for  the  nobility.  The  thoroughness  with  which 
this  reform  was  carried  out  some  years  later  is  very 
noticeable.  The  guillotine  treated  all  sorts  of  men  and 
women  alike.  It  was  a  common  request  of  the  cahiers 
that  the  family  of  a  man  convicted  and  punished  for  crime 
should  not  be  held  to  be  disgraced,  nor  the  relations  of 
the  culprit  shut  out  from  preferment.  The  former  re- 
quest shows  a  curious  ignorance  of  what  can  and  what 
cannot  be  done  by  legislation.  Persons  acquitted  were  to 
receive  damages,  either  from  the  accuser,  or  from  the 
state.  Judges  were  to  give  reasons  for  their  decisions. 
Arbitrary  imprisonment  by  lettre  de  cachet  was,  accord- 
ing to  some  cahiers,  to  be  suppressed  altogether ;  accord- 
ing to  others  it  was  to  be  regulated,  but  the  practice 
retained  where  public  policy  or  family  discipline  might 
require  it.^ 

1  T.,  AlenQon,  A.  P.,  i.  717,  §  4.  T.,  Amiens,  A.  P.,  i.  747,  §  1. 
This  cahier  gives  a  very  full  statement  of  existing  judicial  abuses. 
Desjardins,  xxxv.  Poncins,  286.  Desjardins  (xl.)  says  that  the 
Nobility  tried  to  save  the  jurisdiction  of  the  bailiffs,  and  in  some 
cases  persuaded  the  Third  Estate.     I  do  not  find  the  instances. 

2  Domfront,  A.  P.,  i.  723,  §  G.     Amiens,  A.  P.,  i.  747,  §  7.     The 


358     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

cahiers  show  that  everybody  was  opposed  to  the  use  of  lettres  de  cachet 
as  they  then  existed  ;  but  most  of  the  cahiers  that  had  anything  to 
say  about  them  expressed  a  desire  to  keep  something  of  the  kind. 
They  are  considered  necessary  for  reasons  of  state,  or  in  the  interest 
of  families.  Desjardins,  407.  The  author  of  the  Histoire  du  gouvern- 
ment  de  France  depuis  VAssemblee  des  Notables,  a  good,  sensible,  middle- 
class  man,  approves  of  them  (260).  Mercier  (viii.  242)  considers' 
them  useful  and  even  necessary. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

SOCIAL   AND   ECONOMICAL   MATTERS   IN   THE   CAHIERS. 


1 


As  we  pass  from  political  and  administrative  questions 
to  social  and  economical  ones,  the  difficulty  of  an  ami- 
cable arrangement  is  seen  to  increase.  All  agree  that 
property  is  sacred ;  but  the  greater  part  of  the  nation  is 
firmly  persuaded  that  privilege  must  be  destroyed;  and 
in  a  vast  number  of  cases,  privilege  is  property.  This 
difficulty  will  not  stand  long  in  the  way  of  the  Commons 
of  France.  It  is  just  where  privilege  has  this  private 
character  that  it  is  the  most  odious  to  some  classes  of 
the  population.  The  possession  of  land  is  connected  with 
feudal  obligations  of  all  sorts ;  a  violent  separation  must 
be  made  between  them.  The  services  to  be  rendered  by 
the  tenant  to  the  landlord  may  be  the  most  important  part 
of  the  latter 's  ownership;  and  by  the  system  of  tenure 
maintained  for  centuries  over  the  greater  part  of  Chris- 
tendom, every  landholder  has  been  some  one's  tenant. 
With  the  exception  of  a  very  few  sovereign  princes  there 
has  been  no  man  in  possession  of  an  acre  of  land  who 
has  not  rendered  therefor,  theoretically  if  not  practically, 
some  rent  or  service.  The  service  might  be  merely  nom- 
inal ;  in  the  case  of  noble  lands  in  the  eighteenth  century, 
it  generally  was  so;  but  nominal  or  real,  the  right  to 
exact  it  was  some  one's  property.  If  such  a  right  did  not 
put  money  in  his  purse,  it  yet  added  to  his  dignity  and 
self-satisfaction.  But  such  rights  as  this  had  come  to  be 
looked  on  with  deep  distrust  by  a  large  part  of  the  French 
nation.  Ideas  of  independence  and  of  the  abstract  rights 
of  man  had  struck  deep  root.    It  was  felt  that  land  should 


360  THE   EVE    OF   THE    FRENCH   REVOLUTION. 

be  owned  absolutely,  —  by  allodial  possession,  as  the 
phrase  is.  The  feudal  services,  in  fact,  were  often  more 
onerous  to  those  who  paid  them  than  they  were  beneficial 
to  those  who  received  them.  It  was  time  that  they  should 
be  abolished.  Those  which  were  purely  honorific,  al- 
though valued  by  the  nobility,  who  possessed  them,  out- 
raged the  sense  of  equality  in  the  nation.  They  were  felt 
to  be  badges  and  marks  of  the  inferiority  of  the  tenant 
to  the  landlord,  of  the  poor  to  the  rich.  There  is  but  one 
king,  and  we  cannot  all  be  noble,  but  let  every  man  hold 
his  farm  in  peace ;  such  was  the  impatient  cry  of  the  com- 
mon people.  The  feudal  rights',  which  are  merely  hon- 
orific, offend  man  as  man;  some  of  them  are  degrading, 
some  ridiculous.  They  must  be  abolished  as  fast  as  pos- 
sible.^ 

Belief  from  the  operation  of  one  set  of  privileges, 
neither  strictly  pecuniary  nor  entirely  honorific,  was 
almost  unanimously  demanded  by  the  farmers.  These 
were  the  rights  of  the  nobles  concerning  the  preservation 
of  game,  and  the  cognate  right  of  keeping  pigeons.  The 
country-folk  speak  of  doves  as  "the  scourge  of  laborers," 
and  ask  that  they  may  be  destroyed,  or  at  least  shut  up 
during  seed-time  and  harvest.  One  gentleman  answers 
with  the  remonstrance  that,  being  very  warm,  they  are 
used  in  medicine,  but  that  sparrows  devour  every  year  a 
bushel  of  grain  apiece,  and  that  each  village  should  be 
obliged  to  kill  a  certain  quantity  of  them.  The  peasants 
ask  that  wild  boars  and  rabbits  be  alike  destroyed.  The 
royal  preserves  are  particularly  hated  by  all  the  agricul- 
tural population  living  near  Paris.     Land  naturally  of  the 

1  T.,  Aix  en  Provence,  A.  P.,  i.  697,  §  8.  T.,  Draguignan,  A.  P.,  iii. 
260.  Clidrest  (ii.  424)  points  out  that  the  cahiers  of  the  districts 
{haillages)  are  more  moderate  than  those  of  the  villages  in  matters 
concerning  feudal  rights,  and  thinks  that  this  moderation  was  assumed 
from  politic  motives,  not  to  frighten  the  privileged  orders  too  much 
at  this  stage.  But  it  seems  improbable  that  such  a  piece  of  policy 
could  have  been  so  widely  practiced. 


SOCIAL   MATTERS    IN   THE   CAHIERS.  361 

first  class  is  said  to  be  made  almost  worthless  by  the 
abundance  of  the  game.  The  hare  feeds  on  the  tender 
shoots  of  the  growing  grain.  The  partridge  half  destroys 
the  wheat.  Kabbits  and  other  vermin  browse  on  the  vines, 
fruit-trees,  and  vegetables.  Farmers  are  not  allowed  to 
destroy  weeds  for  fear  of  disturbing  game.  Mounted 
keepers  ride  all  over  the  fields,  trampling  down  the  crops. 
The  king  is  begged  to  reduce  his  preserves,  in  so  far  as 
he  can  do  so  without  interfering  with  his  own  amusement, 
or  even  to  suppress  them  altogether. ^ 

As  for  the  feudal  rights  which  brought  in  money  to  their 
owners,  it  was  generally  felt,  at  least  by  the  Commons, 
that  they  must  be  redeemable ;  that  the  persons  liable  to 
pay  on  their  account  must  be  allowed  to  buy  them  off  by 
the  payment  of  a  certain  sum  down,  where  the  ownership 
was  true  and  fair.  Here,  however,  a  great  trouble  seemed 
likely  to  arise  from  an  important  divergence  of  ideas.  The 
French  nobles  believed,  as  the  vast  mass  of  property  hold- 
ers has  believed  in  all  ages,  that  prescription  or  ancient 
use  was  sufficient  evidence  of  property.  If  it  could  be 
shown  that  a  man,  or  his  predecessors  in  title,  had  held  a 
certain  piece  of  land  or  a  certain  right  over  the  land  of 
another,  from  time  immemorial,  or  for  a  very  long  time, 
nothing  more  was  needed  to  establish  his  property.  Un- 
less this  theory  be  admitted,  at  least  to  some  extent,  it 
would  seem  that  all  rights  of  property  must  perish.  In 
respect  therefore  to  land  in  actual  possession  the  French 
nation  held  firmly  to  prescription.  But  in  respect  to 
those  more  subtle  rights  in  land  which  had  been  enor- 
mously favored  by  the  feudal  system,  another  theory  came 

1  T.,  Pecqueuse  (Paris,  extra  muros),  A.  P.,  v.  11,  §  36.  T.,  Alen- 
Qon,  A.  P.,  i.  719,  ch.  viii.  §  3.  Exmes,  A.  P.,  i.  728,  §§  20,  21. 
Verneuil,  A.  P.,  i.  731,  §  44.  Seigneur  de  Pierrefitt^,  A.  P.,  v.  19, 
§  16.  Port  au  Pecq  (Paris,  ex.  m.),  A.  P.,  v.  12,  §  18.  Plaisir  (Paris, 
ex.  m.)  A.  P.\.  25.  Amont-Gray,  A.  P.,  i.  780.  P^rigny  en  Brie 
(Paris,  ex.  m.)  A.  P.,  v.  14,  §  5-11,  and  many  others. 


362     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

in.  Those  rights  were  thought  in  the  eighteenth  century 
to  be  unnatural  in  themselves,  and  therefore  abusive.  It 
was  believed,  moreover,  that  many  of  them  had  been 
usurped  without  reason  or  justice.^  It  was  commonly 
held  by  the  Third  Estate  that  unless  an  express  charter 
or  agreement  could  be  shown  establishing  such  rights,  they 
should  be  abolished  without  compensation,  and  that  some 
of  them  were  so  unjust  and  objectionable  that  not  even  an 
agreement  or  a  charter  could  sanction  them.  Such  were 
many  feudal  payments  and  monopolies;  common  bulls, 
common  ovens,  rights  to  labor  and  to  services.  Such 
above  all,  where  it  lingered,  was  serfdom. ^ 

When  we  pass  from  the  property  of  private  persons  to 
that  of  clerical  corporations,  whether  sole  or  aggregate, 
we  find  the  case  still  stronger.  It  has  been  said  that  the 
greater  number  of  the  cahiers  of  the  clergy  were  composed 
under  the  prevailing  influence  of  the  parish  priests. 
These  men  felt  themselves  to  be  wronged  in  the  distribu- 
tion of  church  property.  They  thought  it  outrageous  that 
the  working  part  of  the  clergy  should  receive  but  a  pit- 
tance, while  useless  drones  fattened  in  idleness.^  Their 
proposals  were  radical.  They  would  take  from  the  few 
who  had  much  and  give  to  the  many  who  had  little.  The 
salaries  of  those  who  ministered  in  parishes  should  be 
increased,  by  fixing  a  minimum,  and  the  money  should 
come  out  of  the  pockets  of  abbots,  chapters,  and  monas- 
teries.    Not  only  are  future  appointments  to  be  made  so 

1  T.,  B^arn,  A.  P.,  vi.  500.     Rennes,  A.  P.,  v.  646. 

2  For  the  desire  to  retain  feudal  rights,  see  N.,  Condom,  A.  P.,  iii. 
38,  §  5.  N.,  Dax,  A.  P.,  iii.  94,  §  21.  N.,  Etain,  A.  P.,  ii.  215,  §  10. 
iV.,  Bas  Vivarais,  A .  P.,  vi.  180,  §  19.  For  the  desire  to  abolish  them, 
T.,  Avesnes,  A.  P.,  ii.  153,  §§  34-40.  T.,  Bar-le-duc,  A.  P.,  ii.  200, 
§§  49,  50.  T.,  Beau jolais,  A .  P.,  ii.  285,  §  22.  T.,  Cambrai,  A .  P.,  ii. 
520,  §§  14-16.  C,  Clermont  en  Beauvoisis,  A.  P.,  ii.  746.  T.,  Crdpy, 
A.  P.,  iii.  74,  §  21.  T.,  Linas,  A.  P.,  iv.  649,  §  17.  7\,  Ploermel, 
A.  P.,  V.  379,  §§  14-20  (a  very  full  exposition),  and  many  others. 

8  C,  Paroisse  de  St.  Paul,  A.  P.,  v.  270,  §  11. 


SOCIAL   MATTERS    IN   THE   CAIIIERS.  363 

as  to  favor  the  parish  priests,  but  for  their  benefit  the 
present  incumbents  of  fat  livings  are  to  be  dispossessed. 
The  schemes  for  this  purpose  were  not  identical  every- 
where, but  the  spirit  was  the  same  throughout  the  popular 
part  of  the  order. 

While  the  Third  Estate  agreed  with  the  Clergy  in 
wishing  to  readjust  clerical  incomes,  an  attack  was  made 
in  some  quarters  on  the  payment  of  the  tithe  itseK.  This, 
however,  was  not  general.  The  people  were  willing  to 
pay  a  reasonable  tithe,  although  some  of  them  woidd  have 
preferred  that  the  priests  should  receive  salaries,  paid 
from  the  product  of  ordinary  taxation.  Compulsory  fees 
for  religious  ceremonies,  such  as  weddings  and  funerals, 
were  very  unpopular.  It  was  repeatedly  asked  that  such 
fees  should  be  abolished,  when  the  incomes  of  the  priests 
were  made  sufficient.^ 

Thus  the  cahiers  do  not  attack  the  right  of  property  in 
the  abstract;  on  the  contrary,  they  maintain  it.  But 
they  shake  its  foundations  by  blows  aimed  at  vested  rights 
and  at  prescription. 

The  question  of  taxation  is  postponed  in  the  cahiers  to 
that  of  constitutional  rights.  But  financial  necessities 
were  the  very  cause  of  the  existence  of  the  Estates  Gen- 
eral, the  opportunity  for  all  reforms.  On  the  most  impor- 
tant principle  of  taxation  the  country  was  almost  unani- 
mous. Thenceforth  the  burdens  were  to  be  borne  by  all. 
Only  here  and  there  did  some  privileged  body  contend 
for  old  immunities,  some  chapter  put  in  a  claim  that  the 
Clergy  should  still  pay  only  in  the  form  of  a  voluntary  gift. 
The  privileged  orders  generally  relinquish  their  freedom 
from  taxation.  Sometimes  they  applaud  themselves  for 
so  doing.  The  Clergy,  in  many  cases,  undertake  to  bear 
their  share  of  taxation  only  on  condition  that  their  corpo- 
rate debt  shall  be  made  a  part  of  the  debt  of  the  nation. 

1  Poncins,  179.  T.,  Ploermel,  A.  P.,  v.  380,  §  22.  Soissy-sous- 
Etioles,  A.  P.,  V.  121,  §  10. 


364  THE   EVE    OF   THE   FRENCH    REVOLUTION. 

The  Third  Estate,  on  the  other  hand,  maintains  that  it 
is  but  fair  and  right  that  all  citizens  shall  be  taxed  alike. 
Its  cahiers  demand  as  a  right  what  those  of  the  higher 
orders  offer  as  a  gift.^ 

As  to  the  method  of  taxation  to  be  employed  there  was 
some  approach  to  agreement.  Many  of  the  old  taxes 
were  utterly  condemned,  at  least  in  their  old  forms.  The 
salt  tax  was  to  be  equalized,  if  it  were  not  entirely  done 
away.  The  monopoly  of  tobacco,  that  "article  of  first 
necessity,"  was  to  receive  the  same  treatment.  Many 
demands  were  made  concerning  the  excise  on  wine.  "  We 
find  it  hard  to  believe,"  cry  the  people  of  the  village  of 
Pavaut,  "that  all  this  multitude  of  duties  goes  into  the 
king's  strong-box;  we  rather  believe  that  it  serves  to 
fatten  those  who  are  at  the  head  of  the  excise ;  and  that 
at  the  expense  of  the  poor  vine-dresser."  All  the  taxes 
were  to  be  converted  as  fast  as  possible  into  one  on  land 
and  one  on  personal  property.  But  the  minds  of  the 
reformers  had  not  grasped  the  real  difficulties  of  the  sub- 
ject. They  were  in  that  stage  of  thought  in  which  great 
questions  are  answered  off-hand  because  the  thinker  has 
not  fully  apprehended  them.  Should  the  personal  tax 
be  based  on  capital  or  on  incomes,  and  how  should  these 
be  ascertained?  It  is  far  easier  to  formulate  general 
principles  of  taxation  than  to  apply  them  successfully.^ 

A  common  demand  is  for  the  taxation  of  luxuries,  such 
as  servants,  carriages,  or  dogs.  The  people  of  Segonzac 
propose  a  charge  on  rouge,  "which  destroys  beauty,"  and 
strike  at  a  fashionable  folly  of  the  day  by  suggesting  a 
special  payment  by  those  "who  allow  themselves  to  wear 
two  watches."  This  is  perhaps  not  the  place  to  mention  the 

1  A  few  cahiers  of  the  Nobility  request  that  a  certain  part  of  the 
property  of  poor  nobles  be  exempt  from  taxation.  iV.,  Clermont- 
Ferrand,  A.  P.,  ii.  767,  §  23.     N.,  Bas  Limousin,  A.  P.,  iii.  538,  §  14 

2  Salt  and  tobacco,  T.,  Perche,  A.  P.,  v.  327,  §  38.  Loisail,  A.  R 
V.  334,  §  7.     Wine,  Pavaut,  A .  P.,  v.  9. 


SOCIAL   MATTERS    IX   THE   CAHIERS.  365 

proposal  to  impose  an  additional  tax  on  persons  of  both 
sexes  who  are  unmarried  after  "a  certain  age."  The  great 
movement  from  the  country  to  the  cities  was  already  excit- 
ing alarm.  The  people  of  Albret  think  that  a  tax  on  luxu- 
ries will  have  the  double  advantage  of  weighing  on  the  rich- 
est and  least  useful  citizens,  and  of  sending  the  population 
back  to  the  country  from  the  cities,  which  wdll  receive  just 
limits.  And  the  people  of  Domfront  speak  of  Paris  as 
an  ''a^vful  chasm,"  in  which  the  wealth,  population,  and 
morals  of  the  provinces  are  swallowed  up  together.  ^ 

Theoretical  attacks  on  luxury  are  common  in  all  ages, 
and  not  very  significant.  Far  more  so  are  proposals  for 
progressive  taxation.  These  are  of  occasional  occurrence 
in  the  cahiers.  The  Third  Estate  of  Rennes,  whose 
cahier  is  considered  typical  of  the  more  revolutionary 
aspirations  of  the  times, ^  asks  that  "the  tax  on  persons 
shall  be  established  and  assessed  with  reference  to  their 
powers,  so  that  he  that  is  twice  as  well  off  as  the  well  to 
do  people  of  his  class  shall  pay  three  times  the  tax,  and  so 
following."  The  spirit  of  this  demand  is  more  clear  than 
its  application.  The  town  of  Bellocq,  in  the  province  of 
Beam,  is  more  explicit.  It  would  pay  the  public  debt  by 
a  special  tax,  justly  assessed,  first  on  farmers  general  and 
other  collectors  of  the  revenue,  who  have  made  fortunes 
quickly  for  themselves  and  their  relations,  by  money 
drawn  from  the  nation ;  next  on  all  persons  wdio  have  an 
income  exceeding  two  hundred  pistoles,  whether  from 
lands,  contracts,  or  manufactures ;  then  on  the  feoffees  of 
tolls,  where  the  amount  of  the  tolls  is  more  than  double 
the  rent  paid  for  them;  and  lastly,  if  the  above  do  not 

1  Taxation  of  luxuries  in  general,  C,  Douai,  A.  P.,  iii,  174,  §  19. 
N.,  Ale^non,  A.  P.,  i.  715.  C,  Amiens,  A.  P.,  i.  735.  T.,  Aix,  A.  P., 
i.  696.  T.,  Langon,  A.  P.,  ii.  270,  §§  26,  27,  and  many  others. 
Bachelors,  T.,  Rennes,  A.  P.,  v.  544,  §  115.  Vicheray,  ^  .  P.,  vi.  24, 
§  30.  Cities,  T.,  Albret,  A.  P.,  i.  706,  §  38.  Domifront,  A.  P.,  i. 
724,  §  14. 


3o6     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

suffice,  it  is  proposed  to  obtain  a  sum  of  money  by  seizing 
a  part  of  all  articles  of  luxury  and  superfluity,  wherever 
found;  and  it  is  explained  that  the  plate  of  the  rich  and 
the  ornaments  of  churches  are  especially  intended.^ 

The  financial  scheme  outlined  in  the  cahiers  is,  in  the 
main,  as  follows.  As  soon  as  the  constitution  shall  have 
been  settled,  the  deputies  shall  call  on  the  royal  ministers 
for  accounts  and  estimates.  The  latter  shall  be  furnished 
in  two  parts.  First  shall  come  those  for  the  necessary, 
current  expenses  of  the  government,  including  those  of 
the  king  and  his  family  and  court,  to  be  maintained  in  a 
style  suitable  to  the  splendor  of  a  great  monarchy.  It 
shall  then  be  considered  what  economies  can  be  introduced 
into  every  department.  Among  these  economies,  the  sup- 
pression or  reduction  of  extravagant  pensions,  especially 
of  such  as  are  bestowed  for  mere  favor,  and  not  for  service 
to  the  state,  shall  take  a  prominent  place.  When  the  es- 
timates have  been  duly  considered,  special  appropriations 
shall  be  made  by  the  Estates,  and  ministers  shall  be  held 
to  a  strict  responsibility  in  expending  them. 

Next,  concerning  the  debts  of  the  state,  a  separate  and 
detailed  account  shall  be  rendered  to  the  Estates  General. 
This  also  shall  be  scrutinized,  the  justice  of  the  various 
claims  considered,  and  means  provided  for  their  gradual 
payment.  It  is  taken  for  granted  that,  henceforth,  the 
French  nation  is  usually  to  live  within  its  income ;  but  if 
debts  are  contracted  at  any  time,  special  provision  must 
be  made  for  the  repayment  of  principal  and  interest.^ 

Having  considered  the  general  matters  of  constitutional 
government,  law,  property,  and  taxation,  we  may  pass  to 
those  questions  which  more  particularly  interested  one  of 
the  great  orders  of  the  state,  or  on  which  the  opinions  of 
one  order  might  be  expected  to  differ  from  those  of  an- 
other.    In   general   policy  the    clergy  agreed   with   the 

1  A.  P.,  ii.  275,  §  42  n. 

2  N.,  Amont,  A.  P.,  i.  766.     N.,  Agenois,  A.  P.,  '..  682. 


SOCIAL   MATTERS   IN   THE   CAHIERS.  367 

nobility  and  the  Third  Estate,  but  in  some  matters  they 
differed.  Yet  the  differences  were  greater  in  degree  than 
in  kind.  I  mean  that  the  clergy,  as  was  natural,  had 
most  to  say  about  ecclesiastical,  religious,  and  moral 
questions,  and  differed  from  the  nobility  and  the  com- 
mons more  by  the  relative  prominence  which  it  gave  to 
these,  than  by  the  nature  of  its  opinions  concerning  them. 

The  Roman  Catholic  and  Apostolic  Religion  is  the  re- 
ligion of  the  state;  and  the  public  worship  of  no  other 
shall  be  allowed  in  France.  This  was  the  universal  de- 
mand of  the  clergy,  and  in  it  the  other  orders  usually 
acquiesced.  As  for  the  granting  of  civil  rights  to  those 
who  are  not  Catholic,  the  clergy  is  of  opinion  that  quite 
enough,  perhaps  too  much,  has  already  been  done  in  that 
direction.  Such  rights  as  have  already  been  granted  must 
be  limited  and  defined,  and  a  stop  put  to  the  encroach- 
ments of  heresy.  Sometimes  the  lay  orders  would  go 
farther  in  toleration.  One  cahier  of  the  nobility  proposes 
a  military  cross  for  distinguished  Protestant  officers,  an- 
other that  non-Catholics  may  be  electors,  but  not  elected, 
to  the  Estates  General.  The  inhabitants  of  some  of  the 
central  provinces  would  restore  the  property  of  exiles  for 
religion's  sake  to  their  families.  The  people  of  one  quar- 
ter of  Paris  would  allow  the  free  worship  of  all  religions. 
Expressions  of  approval  of  the  recent  concession  of  a 
civil  status  to  Protestants  are  not  unusual  in  the  cahiers. 
But  the  country  and  all  the  orders  are  undoubtedly  and 
overwhelmingly  Catholic. ^ 

The  clergy  asks  that  the  observance  of  Sundays  and 
holidays  be  enforced.  Tlie  Third  Estate,  in  some  places, 
thinks  that  there  are  too  many  holidays  already.     It  would 

1  For  toleration,  Bellocq,  A.  P.,  ii.  276,  §  59.  N.,  Agen,  A.  P.,  i. 
684,  §  14.  r.,  P^rigord,  A.  P.,  v.  ^43,  §  45.  T.,  Poitou,  A.  P.,  v. 
414.  Vouvant,  ^.  P.,  V.  427,  §  18.  T.  Paris-Thdatins,  ^.  P.,  v. 
316,  §  29.     T.,  Montargis,  A.  P.,  iv.  23,  §  10. 


368     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

abolish  many  of  them,  transferring  their  religious  observ- 
ances to  the  Sunday  to  which  they  fall  nearest.^ 

In  regard  to  the  liberty  of  the  press  the  clergy  is  at 
variance  with  the  other  orders.  It  would  maintain  a 
stricter  censorship  than  heretofore,  and  is  inclined  to  attrib- 
ute all  the  immorality  of  the  age  to  the  unbridled  license 
of  authors.  The  nobility  and  the  Third  Estate,  on  the 
other  hand,  would  generally  allow  the  press  to  be  free, 
but  would  exact  responsibility  on  the  part  of  authors  and 
printers,  one  or  both  of  whom  should  always  be  required 
to  sign  their  publications.  Thus  anonymous  libels  should 
no  longer  be  suffered  to  appear,  and  bad  books  generally 
should  bring  down  punishment  on  their  authors. 

The  cahiers  of  the  clergy,  more,  perhaps,  than  any 
others,  insist  on  the  importance  of  education;  and  the 
ecclesiastics  generally  wish  to  control  it  themselves. 
Here  the  commons  sometimes  go  farther  than  they ;  ask- 
ing that  all  monks  and  nuns  be  obliged  to  give  free  in- 
struction. ^ 

As  for  the  administration  of  their  own  order  the  clergy, 
under  the  lead  of  the  parish  priests,  demand  extensive  re- 
forms. There  must  be  no  more  absenteeism ;  no  bishops 
and  abbots  drawing  large  incomes  and  amusing  themselves 
in  Paris  or  Versailles.  There  must  be  no  more  plural- 
ities, which  are  contrary  to  the  decrees  of  the  Council  of 
Trent.  Promotion  must  be  thrown  open  to  the  parochial 
clergy.  Faithful  clergymen  must  be  provided  for  in  their 
old  age.  Frequent  synods  and  provincial  councils  must 
be  held.  The  laity  agree  with  the  clergy  in  calling  for 
these  reforms,  and  would  in  many  cases  go  a  great  way  in 
the  suppression  and  consolidation  of  monasteries. ^ 

1  T.,  St.  Pierre-le-Moutier,  A.  P.,  v.  640,  §63.  T.,  Paris-liors-les- 
murs,  A.  P.,  241,  §  2. 

2  C,  Aix,  A.  P.,  i.  692,  §  6.  C,  Labourt,  iii.  A.  P.,  424,  §  27. 
Ornaus,  A,  P.,  iii.  172,  §  4.    T.,  Douai,  A.  P.,  iii.  181,  §§  28,  29. 


SOCIAL   MATTERS   IN   THE   CAHIERS.  369 

Both  clergy  and  laity  are  intensely  Gallican.  They 
do  not  wish  to  pay  tribute  to  Kome,  but  desire  that  the 
church  of  France  shall  preserve  her  privileges  and  immu- 
nities. Dispensations  for  the  marriage  of  relatives  should, 
they  think,  be  granted  by  French  bishops,  and  the  fees 
payable  therefor  should  be  kept  in  the  country.  An- 
nats,  or  payments  to  the  Pope  on  the  occasion  of  appoint- 
ment to  French  benefices,  should  be  discontinued.  An 
importance  far  beyond  what  their  amount  alone  would 
seem  to  justify  was  attached  in  French  minds  to  these 
payments  to  the  Holy  See.  They  were  repugnant  to  the 
national  sense  of  dignity.  In  some  places  the  idea  that 
the  church  of  France  was  to  govern  herself  went  so  far  as 
to  threaten  orthodoxy.  The  clergy  of  the  province  of 
Poitou  ask  for  the  composition  by  the  French  bishops, 
"  who  would  doubtless  think  proper  to  consult  the  univer- 
sities," of  a  body  of  theology,  "divested  of  all  useless 
questions,"  which  shall  be  exclusively  taught  in  all  semi- 
naries, schools,  and  monasteries.  We  have  here  an  in- 
stance of  that  impatience  of  all  complicated  and  difficult 
thought,  of  that  simple  faith  that  all  questions  admit  of 
short  and  sensible  answers,  which  characterized  the  eigh- 
teenth century.  The  clergy  of  Poitou  ask  also  for  a  great 
and  little  catechism,  common  to  all  dioceses.  "  Uniform 
instruction  throughout  all  the  Gallican  Church,"  they  say, 
"would  have  so  many  advantages  that  the  bishops  will  not 
fail  to  apply  themselves  to  obtain  it.  A  common  breviary 
and  a  common  liturgy  would  be  equally  desirable."  ^ 

The  election  of  bishops  is  asked  for  in  several  cahiers, 
and  many  parishes  wish  to  elect  their  priests.  These 
requests  were  not  as  radical  as  they  may  now  seem  to 
have  been,  —  at  least  they  did  not  interfere  with  the  pre- 
rogatives of  Rome,  —  for  the  bishops  in  France  were  nom- 
inated by  the  crown,  as  they  still  are  by  the  French  gov- 

1  Poncins,  190,  A.  P.,  passim.    N.,  Ageuois,  A.  P.,  i.  G82,  §  8. 

2  yl.  P.,  V.  391,  §  19. 


370     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

ernment,  and  tlie  appointment  of  the  priests,  then  in 
France  as  now  in  England,  was  often  in  the  hands  of  lay 
patrons. 

The  French  nation  in  general  wished  to  retain  its  no- 
bility as  a  distinct  part  of  the  state.  In  but  few  cahiers 
do  we  find  so  much  as  a  hint  of  the  suppression  of  the 
order. 2  The  Third  Estate  would,  however,  reduce  the 
advantage  of  the  nobility  to  little  more  than  a  distinction 
and  a  political  weight.  The  nobles,  being  in  numbers 
perhaps  one  hundredth  part  of  the  nation,  are  to  be 
allowed  one  quarter  of  the  representatives  in  the  Estates 
General  and  in  the  Provincial  Estates.  They  are  to  have 
a  large  share  of  honors,  offices,  and  emoluments.  Their 
order  is  to  be  made  more  exclusive  than  it  has  been.  No- 
bility is  no  longer  to  be  bought  and  sold,  but  shall  be 
accorded  only  for  merit  or  long  service,  perhaps  only  on 
the  nomination  of  the  Provincial  Estates.  Except  in  the 
most  democratic  cahiers,  these  concessions  are  not  dis- 
puted. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  Commons  ask  for  a  share  of  the 
chances  hitherto  reserved  for  the  nobles.  The  exclusive 
right  held  by  the  upper  order,  of  serving  as  judges  in 
the  higher  courts  of  justice,  or  as  officers  in  the  army,  is 
to  disappear.  To  the  latter  right  the  nobles  strongly 
cling.  The  career  of  arms,  they  say,  is  their  natural, 
their  only  vocation.  In  some  cases,  however,  they  ask 
to  be  allowed  to  practice  other  means  of  earning  a  liveli- 
hood without  derogating  from  their  nobility.  But  they 
join  with  the  other  orders  in  the  cry  for  reforms  in  the 
army.^ 

1  Poncins,  168. 

2  Poncins,  111.  Hippeau,  p.  x.,  etc.  My  own  study  of  the  cahiers 
confirms  this  opinion.  See,  however,  a  lon^,  argumentative  article 
in  the  cahier  of  the  Third  Estate  of  Rennes,  A.  P.,  v.  540,  §§  48-50. 
See  also  that  of  Bellocq,  A.  P.,  ii.  276,  §  61.  T.  A[x,A.  P.,  i.  697. 
Villiers-sur-Marne,  A.  P.,  v.  216.     Carri,  A.  P.,  vi.  280  §  35,  etc. 

3  r.,  Perche,  A.  P.,  326,  §  17.     N.,  Agenois,  A.  P.,  i.  683,  §  14. 


SOCIAL   MATTERS   IN  THE   CAHIERS.  371 

The  general  irritation  caused  by  the  new  military 
regulations  has  been  noticed  in  another  chapter.  The 
cahiers  unanimously  give  it  voice.  The  French  soldier 
shall  no  longer  be  insulted  with  blows.  The  organization 
of  the  army  shall  be  amended.  It  must  not  be  subjected 
"to  the  versatility  of  the  spirit  of  system  and  to  the 
caprice  of  ministers."  Many  are  the  requests  that  the 
soldier  be  better  treated.  Not  a  few,  that  his  necessary 
leisure  be  turned  to  good  account  by  employment  in  road- 
building  or  in  other  public  works.^  More  nmuerous, 
perhaps,  are  those  for  fairness  of  promotion.  It  was  in 
this  matter  that  the  poorer  nobility  was  most  bitter  in  its 
jealousy  of  the  great  court  families.  AVith  but  one  path 
for  their  ambition,  the  country  nobles  saw  their  way 
blocked  by  the  glittering  figures  of  men  no  better  born 
than  themselves.  The  wrinkled  old  soldier,  descended 
from  Crusaders,  personally  distinguished  in  twenty  bat- 
tles, stood  on  his  wounded  legs  and  presented  his  halberd 
as  a  captain  at  fifty;  while  a  Noailles,  or  a  Carignan, 
with  no  more  quarterings  and  no  service  at  all,  perhaps 
hardly  a  Frenchman  and  only  twenty  years  old,  but  with 
a  duke  for  an  uncle,  or  a  queen's  favorite  for  a  sister, 
pranced  on  his  managed  charger  at  the  head  of  the  regi- 
ment as  its  colonel.  Nor  was  this  all.  The  worthy  vet- 
eran might,  on  some  trifling  quarrel,  be  deprived  of  the 
rank  he  had  won  with  his  sweat  and  his  blood,  and  sent 
back  to  his  paternal  hawk's  nest,  a  broken  and  disgraced 
man.  The  cahiers  demand  that  there  shall  be  no  more 
dismissals  without  trial ;  and  many  of  them  ask  that  par- 
ticular cases  of  hardship  may  be  rectified.  For  now  the 
world  is  to  be  set  right  again ;  commissions  and  appoint- 

1  N.,  Ponthieu,  A .  P.,  v.  434,  §§  40-42.  T.,  Perche,  A.  P.,  v.  326, 
§  19.  Soldiers  to  work  on  roads,  etc.,  Poncins,  212.  Aries,  A.  P.,  ii. 
Gl,  §  3.  r.,  Bourbonnais,  A.  P.,  ii.  449,  §  vi.,  1.  N.,  Chateau- 
Thierry,^.  P.,  ii.  GGo,  §  5G.     T.,  Etampes,  A.  P.,  iii.  287,  §  12,  etc. 


372     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

ments  to  the  military  school  are  to  be  fairly  distributed ; 
promotion  is  to  be  by  merit  and  term  of  service ;  and  the 
loyal  nobility  of  France  is  once  more  to  be  the  bulwark  of 
an  adored  king  and  a  grateful  nation. 

The  Commons  also  have  their  particular  wishes.  They 
desire  not  only  to  be  rid  of  feudal  oppression,  but  of  ad= 
ministrative  regulations.  These  are  sometimes  so  com= 
bined  with  privileges,  or  with  taxation,  that  it  is  not  easy 
to  distinguish  their  cause.  The  fishermen  of  Albret,  for 
instance,  ask  to  be  allowed  to  use  any  kind  of  boat  that 
may  suit  their  convenience. ^  We  can  only  guess  why 
any  one  should  have  interfered  with  their  boats.  Was  it 
a  corporation  of  boat  -  builders  having  a  monopoly  that 
restricted  them,  or  was  it  only  the  paternal  fussiness  of 
Continental  police  regulations  ? 

In  matters  of  commerce  the  national  feeling  was  far 
from  unanimous.  Most  of  the  cahiers  asked  that  trade 
be  free  within  the  kingdom ;  although  some  of  the  border 
provinces,  which  had  enjoyed  a  comparatively  free  trade 
with  Germany  and  had  been  cut  off  from  France,  preferred 
the  maintenance  of  that  state  of  things, ^  and  although 
the  retention  of  the  octrois,  or  custom  -  houses  at  the 
town  gates,  was  sometimes  contemplated.  Uniformity  of 
weights  and  measures  was  also  desired ;  but  was  sometimes 
asked  for  in  a  half  hopeless  tone,  as  if  so  great  a  change 
could  hardly  be  expected.  The  request  was  made  that 
all  loans  with  interest  be  not  considered  usurious ;  a  re- 
quest resisted  in  some  cases  by  the  clergy,  which  clung  to 
the  old  laws  of  usury.  The  abolition  of  monopolies  is 
generally  called  for ;  certain  odious  restrictions,  such  as 
the  mark  on  leather  and  on  iron,  are  condemned,  but 
rather  as  taxes  than  as  commercial  regulations.  On  eco- 
nomic questions  the  nation  has  no  very  fixed  opinions,  nor 

1  A.P.,i.  706,  §57. 

2  Alsace,  Lorraine,  and  the  Three  Bishoprics.  Poncins,  282. 
Mathieu,  441.     C,  Verdun,  A.  P.,  vi.  130. 


SOCIAL   MATTERS    IN   THE   CAHIERS.  373 

have  definite  parties  been  formed.  Free  trade  and  free 
manufactures  commend  themselves  to  the  ear ;  but  regula- 
tions as  to  quality  and  protection  against  English  compe- 
tition may  be  highly  desirable.  Agriculture  needs  more 
hands,  and  is  the  first,  the  most  necessary,  the  noblest  of 
arts.  Furnaces  and  foundries  use  wood,  and  make  fuel 
dear.  Trade  should  be  entirely  free,  —  but  peddlers  are 
nuisances,  and  interfere  with  regular  shop-keepers.  Man- 
ufactures are  a  source  of  wealth,  —  but  dangerous  unless 
well  managed;  none  of  them  should  be  established  with- 
out the  consent  of  the  Provincial  Estates.  If  only  our 
king  and  "his  august  companion  "  would  wear  none  but 
French  stuffs,  and  set  a  fashion  that  way,  our  languishing 
factories  woidd  soon  be  active  again.  ^ 

Certain  demands  of  the  cahiers  excite  surprise  by  their 
frequent  recurrence.  Among  them  is  that  for  the  more 
severe  treatment  of  bankrupts,  who  were  able  in  old 
France  to  evade  the  law  of  the  land  and  even  to  take 
sanctuary.  Some  cahiers  go  so  far  as  to  ask  that  those 
convicted  of  fraud  be  made  habitually  to  wear  a  green  cap 
in  public,  or  that  they  be  whipped,  or  sent  to  the  galleys 
for  life,  or  even  put  to  death. ^ 

All  orders  ask  for  the  suppression  of  begging.  The 
demand  is  commonly  accompanied  by  one  looking  to  some 
humane  pro\asion  for  the  poor,  sometimes  by  a  request  for 
a  regular  poor-law,  or  even  for  regulation  of  wages.  The 
peoi)le  of  the  parish  of  Pecqueuse  ask  that  there  be  public 
works  always  going  on,  where  the  poor  may  earn  wages 

1  Concerning  usury,  7".,  Agenois,  A.P.,\.  GOO.  T., Comminges,  A. 
P.,  iii.  27,  §  24.  St.-Jean-rles-Agneaux,  A.  P.,  iii.  Go,  §  4.  C,  N., 
and  T.,  Dole,  A.  P.,  iii.  152,  §  14  ;  158,  §  57  ;  1G5,  §  xiv.  6.  Paris, 
St.  Eustaclie,  A .  P.,  v.  304,  §  52.  C,  Soule,  v.  774,  §  17,  etc.  See 
also  A^.,  Agenois,  A.  P.,  i.  G84,  §  7.  T.,  Paris,  A.  P.,  v.  285,  §§  3, 
4,  and  n. 

•'  Poncins,  285.  T.,  Pont-.VMousson,  A.  P.,  ii.  232,  §  11.  N., 
Lille,  A.  P.,  iii.  531,  §  54.  T.,  Lyon,  A.  P.,  iii.  613.  T.,  Mantes  et 
Meulan,  A.  P.,  iii.  G72,  §  ix.  2.     C,  Lille,  A.  P.,  iii.  524, 


874  THE   EVE   OF   THE   FRENCH   REVOLUTION. 

calculated  on  the  price  of  grain ;  and,  what  is  more  signi- 
ficant, the  Third  Estate  of  Paris  makes  a  similar  request 
for  public  work-shops.^  Yet  the  universal  cry  for  the 
suppression  of  mendicity,  and  the  form  in  which  it  was 
made,  show  that  begging  was  considered  a  great  evil  on 
its  own  account,  whether  mendicant  monks  or  less  author- 
ized persons  were  the  beggars.  The  begging  monks, 
indeed,  were  either  to  be  abolished,  or  their  maintenance 
in  their  own  monasteries  was  to  be  provided  for  in  the 
general  readjustment  of  ecclesiastical  benefices. 

Another  common  request  is  that  letters  in  the  post- 
office  be  not  tampered  with.  All  readers  who  are  famil- 
iar with  the  history,  and  particularly  with  the  diplomatic 
history  of  the  last  century,  know  how  common  was  the 
practice  of  breaking  open  and  taking  copies  of  polit- 
ical correspondence.  The  letters  of  Franklin  and  Silas 
Deane,  and  of  many  less  prominent  persons,  were  contin- 
ually opened  in  the  mail,  both  in  France  and  in  England. 
Regular  ambassadors  were  driven  to  the  habitual  use  of 
bearers  of  dispatches ;  and  even  these  might  be  waylaid 
and  robbed,  by  the  agents  of  friendly  governments  dis- 
guised as  highwaymen.^  But  it  is  astonishing  to  find  that 
the  evil  had  gone  so  far  as  to  excite  the  fears  of  private 
persons  for  the  maintenance  of  that  privacy  of  which  all 
decent  Frenchmen,  with  their  strong  feeling  of  the  sanc- 
tity of  the  family  and  their  great  dread  of  ridicule,  are 
peculiarly  jealous.^ 

1  yl.A,  V.  11,  §§17,  18.     ^.  P.,  V.  287,  §28. 

2  Ciphers  were  in  common  use,  and  governments  employed  deci- 
pherers. Great  skill  had  been  attained  in  opening  letters  and  closing 
them  again  so  that  they  might  not  appear  to  have  been  tampered 
with.  "  This  institution,  if  well  directed,  has  the  property  of  serving 
as  a  compass  to  those  who  hold  the  reins  of  government,"  writes, 
with  a  fine  jumbling  of  metaphors,  one  who  has  been  a  clerk  in  the 
post-office.  Sorel,  i.  77.  The  Facsimiles  of  MSS.  in  European  Ar- 
chives  relating  to  America,  now  in  process  of  publication  by  Stevens, 
furnish  numerous  examples  of  these  practices. 

8  r.,  Agenois,^.P.,  i.  690. 


SOCIAL   MATTERS    IN   THE   CAHIERS.  375 

Again,  the  frequent  recurrence  of  tlie  request  for  the 
restraint  of  quack  doctors  is  somewhat  surprising.  The 
need  of  competent  surgeons  and  midwives  was  much  felt 
in  the  country,  and  recourse  was  had  to  the  Estates  Gen- 
eral to  provide  them.  In  calling  for  legislation  to  pro- 
hibit quackery  and  to  forbid  lotteries,  the  people  asked 
to  be  protected  against  themselves,  any  extravagant  theo- 
ries of  the  liberty  of  man  to  the  contrary  notwithstanding.  ^ 

Such  were  the  desires  of  the  French  nation  in  the  spring 
of  1789.  In  them  we  may  note  several  important  points 
of  agreement.  First,  government  by  the  nation  and  the 
kino-  too-ether.  France  was  stiU  to  be  a  monarchy ;  not 
a  republic,  open  or  disguised ;  but  it  was  to  be  a  limited 
and  not  an  absolute  monarchy.  In  this  all  the  orders  were 
agreed,  and  the  king,  by  the  mere  summoning  of  the 
Estates  General,  as  well  as  by  his  whole  attitude,  seemed 
to  acquiesce. 

Then,  the  desires  of  the  nation  included  a  diminution 
of  the  privileges  of  the  upper  orders,  not  a  complete  aboli- 
tion of  them.  Like  all  Catholics,  Frenchmen  wished  to 
leave  the  control  of  religious  affairs  largely  in  the  hands 
of  the  clergy.  To  the  nobility,  all  but  a  few  extremists 
were  willing  to  concede  many  privileges,  honors,  and  ad- 
vantages. 

But  while  retaining  a  government  of  limited  monarchy 
and  moderate  aristocracy,  the  nation  in  all  its  branches 
had  determined  that  public  burdens  and  public  benefits 
should  be  more  equally  divided  than  they  had  ever  been 
before.  Proportionate  equality  of  taxation,  and  a  chance 
to  rise  —  these  the  Commons  were  determined  to  have, 
and  the  higher  orders  were  ready  to  concede. 

In   another   feeling   all  France  shared.     Churchmen, 

1  Quack  doctors,  C,  Nemours,  A.  P.,  iv.  108,  §  31.  Cormeilles- 
en-Parisis,  A.  P.,  iv.  4C3,  §  17.  N.,  Troyes,  A.  P.,  vi.  79,  §  80.  T., 
Chalons-aur-Marue,  A.  P.,  ii.  595,  §  24. 


376  THE   EVE   OF   THE   FRENCH    REVOLUTION. 

nobles,  and  common  people  alike  dreaded  and  hated  tlie 
little  ring  of  courtiers.  These  had  grown  great  on  the 
substance  of  the  nation.  They  should  be  restrained  here- 
after, and  obliged  as  far  as  possible  to  surrender  their  ill- 
gotten  gains. 

And  all  men  wanted  administrative  reforms.  The 
courts  of  justice,  the  army,  the  finances,  were  to  be  put  in 
order  and  improved.  Here  all  agreed  as  to  the  end  sought, 
and  if  there  was  much  difference  of  opinion  as  to  the 
methods,  parties  had  not  yet  formed,  nor  had  feeling  run 
very  high  on  these  subjects. 

What,  then,  were  the  dangers  threatening  France? 
They  were  to  be  looked  for  in  the  very  magnitude  of  the 
changes  proposed,  changes  which  could  not  fail  to  startle 
and  alarm  all  Europe.  They  were  to  be  seen  in  the  oppo- 
sition of  the  nobles,  who  were  ready  to  give  up  much,  but 
were  asked  to  give  up  more.  They  were  to  be  feared 
most  of  all  in  a  monarch  so  weak  and  an  administration 
so  faulty,  that  the  first  attempt  at  reform  was  likely  to 
destroy  them  altogether. 


CHAPTER   XXin. 

CONCLUSION. 

France  had  become  a  despotism  in  the  attempt  to 
escape  from  mediaeval  anarchy.  What  she  asked  of  her 
kings  was  security  from  external  enemies,  and  good  gov- 
ernment at  home.  The  first  of  these  they  had  given  her. 
No  country  in  Europe  was  more  respected  and  feared. 
In  spite  of  occasional  and  temporary  reverses,  her  borders 
had  been  enlarged  from  reign  to  reign,  and  her  fields,  for 
nearly  three  centuries,  had  seldom  been  trodden  by  foreign 
armies. 

Within  the  country  the  house  of  Capet  had  been  par- 
tially successful.  It  had  put  down  armed  opposition,  it 
had  taken  away  the  power  of  the  feudal  nobility,  it  had 
maintained  tolerable  security  against  violent  crime.  But 
here  its  zeal  had  slackened.  Civilization  was  advancing 
rapidly,  and  the  French  internal  government  was  not 
keeping  pace  with  it. 

This  better  performance  of  its  external  than  of  its  inter- 
nal tasks  is  almost  inevitable  in  a  despotism.  To  protect 
his  country,  and  to  add  to  it,  is  the  obvious  duty  and  the 
natural  ambition  of  a  despot.  His  dignity  is  concerned ; 
his  pride  is  flattered  by  success;  and  whether  he  has  suc- 
ceeded or  failed  is  obvious  to  himself  and  to  every  one  else. 
To  control  and  improve  the  internal  administration  is  a 
hard  and  ungrateful  labor,  in  which  mistakes  are  sure  to 
occur;  and  the  greatest  and  truest  reform  when  accom- 
plished will  injure  and  displease  some  persons.  The  most 
beneficent  improvements  are  sometimes  those  which  in- 
volve the  most  labor  and  bring  the  least  reputation. 


378     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

Moreover,  it  is  not  the  people  who  surround  kings 
that  are  chiefly  benefited  by  the  good  administration  of  a 
country.  Courtiers  are  likely  to  be  interested  in  abuses, 
and  in  the  absence  of  a  free  press  courtiers  are  the  pub- 
lic of  monarchs.  If  we  compare  the  facilities  possessed 
by  Louis  XVI.  for  ascertaining  the  true  condition  of  his 
country  with  those  possessed  by  the  sovereigns  of  our  own 
day,  an  emperor  of  Germany  or  of  Austria,  or  even  a 
Eussian  Czar,  we  shaU  find  that  the  king  of  France  was 
far  worse  off  than  they  are.  There  were  no  undisputed 
national  accounts  or  statistics  in  France.  There  was  no 
serious  periodical  press  in  any  country,  watching  events 
and  collecting  facts.  There  were  no  newspapers  endeav- 
oring at  once  to  direct  and  to  be  directed  by  public  opin- 
ion. True,  the  satirists  were  everywhere,  with  their 
epigrams  and  their  songs ;  but  who  can  form  a  policy  by 
listening  to  the  jeers  of  the  splenetic? 

The  absolute  monarchy,  therefore,  while  it  protected  the 
French  nation,  was  failing  to  secure  to  it  the  reasonable 
and  civilized  government  to  which  it  felt  itself  to  be  enti- 
tled. It  was  failing  partly  from  lack  of  information,  but 
largely  also  from  lack  of  will.  The  kings  in  the  sixteenth 
and  seventeenth  centuries  had  beaten  down  the  power  of 
the  nobility  and  of  the  Parliaments;  the  kings  of  the 
eighteenth  century  shrank  before  the  influence  of  the  very 
bodies  which  their  ancestors  had  defeated.  It  is  vain 
to  try  to  eliminate  the  personal  element  from  history. 
France  would  have  been  a  very  different  country  in  1789 
from  what  she  was,  had  Louis  XV.  and  Louis  XVI.  been 
strong  and  able  men.  The  education  of  a  prince  is  not 
necessarily  enfeebling.  Perhaps  the  commonest  vice  of 
despots  is  willfulness ;  but  the  last  absolute  king  of  France 
might  have  known  a  far  happier  fate  if  he  had  had  a  little 
more  of  it. 

The  French  government  was  not  aristocratic.  There 
was  no  class  in  the  country,  unless  it  were  the  clergy, 


CONCLUSION.  879 

that  was  in  the  habit  of  exercising  important  political 
rights.  But  the  nobility  comprised  all  those  men  and  all 
those  families  which  were  trained  to  occupy  high  adminis- 
trative place.  The  secretaries  of  state,  the  judges  of  the 
higher  courts,  the  officers  in  the  army,  were  noblemen. 
The  order  also  included  a  large  proportion  of  the  edu- 
cated men  and  the  possessors  of  a  considerable  part  of  the 
wealth  of  the  country.  It  was,  therefore,  a  true  power, 
which  might  appropriately  be  considered.  Moreover,  it 
was  popularly  supposed  to  have  political  rights,  although 
in  fact  these  were  mostly  obsolete.  Could  a  good  deal  of 
weight  have  been  given,  for  a  time  at  least,  to  the  nobil- 
ity, the  result  woidd  probably  have  been  favorable  to  the 
national  order  and  prosperity. 

Government,  to  be  stable,  should  represent  the  true 
forces  of  the  state.  In  a  country  where  all  men  are  of 
the  same  race,  and  where  a  large  portion  of  the  popula- 
tion has  some  property  and  some  education,  nmnbers 
should  be  given  weight  in  government;  for  the  simple 
reason  that,  in  such  a  country,  many  men  are  stronger 
than  a  few,  and  may  choose  to  use  their  strength  rather 
than  that  a  few  should  govern  them.  What  a  large  ma- 
jority of  the  people  desires,  it  can  enforce.  It  is  often 
agreed,  in  favor  of  peace  and  to  end  controversy,  that  what 
a  small  majority  decides  shall  be  taken  as  decided  for  all. 
On  this  agreement  rests  the  legitimacy  of  democracy. 
The  compromise  is  an  arbitrary  one  in  itself,  but  reason- 
able and  sensible ;  and  in  a  nation  that  has  a  good  deal  of 
practical  good  sense,  a  feeling  of  loyalty  may  gather  about 
it.  But  sensible  and  practical  as  it  may  be,  it  remains  a 
compromise  after  all.  There  is  no  divine  right  in  one 
half  the  voters  plus  one.  Some  other  proportion  may  be, 
and  often  is  agreed  on ;  or  some  compromise  entirely  dif- 
ferent may  be  found  to  be  more  in  accordance  with  the 
national  will. 

In  old  France  the  conditions  required  for  democratic 


380  THE   EVE   OF   THE   FRENCH   REVOLUTION. 

government  were  but  partially  fulfilled.  The  population 
was  fairly  lioniogeneous.  Property  and  education  were 
more  or  less  diffused.  But  of  political  experience  there 
was  little,  and  the  democratic  compromise,  to  be  thor- 
oughly successful,  requires  a  great  deal.  It  was  rightly 
felt  that  a  proper  regard  was  not  had  to  the  desires  of  the 
more  numerous  part  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  country; 
that  a  few  persons  had  privileges  far  beyond  their  public 
deserts  or  their  true  powers;  but  how  was  this  state  of 
things  to  be  remedied  ?  What  new  relations  were  to  take 
the  place  of  the  old?  No  actual  compromise  had  been 
effected,  and  the  idea  of  the  rights  of  a  majority,  with  the 
limitations  to  which  those  rights  are  subject,  was  not 
clearly  defined  in  men's  minds. 

A  government  should  represent  the  sense  of  duty  of  a 
country.  All  men  believe  that  something  better  is  ima- 
ginable than  that  which  exists,  and  that  the  better  things 
would  be  attainable  if  only  men  would  act  as  they  ought. 
Most  men  strive  somewhat  to  improve  their  own  condition 
and  conduct.  Every  man  believes  at  least  that  others 
should  do  so.  But  in  making  laws  men  are  trying  to  reg- 
ulate the  conduct  of  others,  and  are  willing,  therefore, 
that  the  laws  should  be  a  little  nearer  to  their  ideals  than 
their  own  practice  is.  All  sensible  men  believe  that  they 
ought  to  obey  the  laws,  and  that  if  they  suffer  for  not 
doing  so  their  suffering  is  righteous.  This  opinion  is  one 
of  the  forces  in  the  world  that  makes  for  good. 

Now  what  were  the  qualities  considered  really  moral 
and  desirable  by  the  Frenchmen  of  1789,  and  how  far  did 
the  government  of  the  Bourbons  tend  toward  them?  The 
duty  first  recognized  by  the  whole  country  was  patriotism. 
The  love  of  France  has  never  grown  cold  in  French  hearts. 
It  is  needless  to  insist  on  this,  for  no  one  who  has  ever 
met  a  Frenchman  worthy  of  the  name,  or  read  a  French 
book  of  any  value,  can  doubt  it.  With  all  its  noble  and 
all  its    petty  incidents,   patriotism    is  a  French    virtue. 


CONCLUSION.  381 

Under  the  kings  of  France  its  aspirations  were  satisfied. 
The  country  was  great  and  glorious. 

That  loyalty  was  held  to  be  a  duty  will  perhaps  be  less 
generally  recognized,  but  I  think  that  enough  has  been 
written  in  this  book  to  show  it.  The  evidence  of  the 
cahiers  is  chiefly  on  that  side.  Most  Frenchmen  believed 
that  a  king  should  govern,  and  that  they  had  a  good  and 
well-meanino'  kins:.  Toward  him  their  hearts  "were  still 
warm  and  their  sense  of  duty  alive.  He  was  misled, 
thwarted,  overruled,  by  selfish  and  designing  courtiers. 
If  he  could  but  have  his  way  all  would  be  well.  Only  a 
very  few  persons  had  eyes  strong  enough  to  see  that  they 
were  worshiping  a  stuffed  scarecrow.  A  man  inside  those 
clothes  could  really  have  led  them. 

Next  among  the  ideals  of  France,  and  far  above  loyalty 
in  many  bosoms,  came  liberty  and  equality.  They  were 
not  very  clearly  comprehended.  By  liberty  was  chiefly 
meant  a  share  of  political  power ;  few  Frenchmen  believed 
then,  or  ever  have  believed,  in  letting  every  man  do  what 
seemed  good  in  his  eyes.  Such  a  theory  of  liberty  does 
not  take  a  very  strong  hold  on  a  race  so  sociable  as  theirs ; 
nor  does  such  unbridled  liberty  seem  consistent  with  civ- 
ilization to  men  accustomed  to  the  rigid  system  of  Con- 
tinental police.  Equality  of  rights  was  an  ideal,  but 
most  people  in  France  were  not  prepared  to  demand  its 
entire  carrying  out.  Equality  of  property  and  of  enjoy- 
ment many  persons,  especially  such  as  considered  them- 
selves Philosophers,  —  persons  who  had  read  Rousseau  or 
Montesquieu,  —  considered  desirable ;  but  no  one  of  any 
weight  had  the  most  distant  intention  of  trying  to  bring 
about  such  a  state  of  things  in  the  work-a-day  world. 
Communistic  schemes  were  not  quite  unknown  in  the 
eighteenth  century,  but  they  belong  to  the  nineteenth.  ^ 

AVith  the  general  growth  of  comfort,  with  the  general 

^  See  for  eighteenth  century  communism  the  curious  essay  of 
Morelly. 


382     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

hope  of  an  improved  world,  humanity^  the  hatred  of  seeing 
others  suffer,  had  begun  to  bestir  itself.  For  many  ages 
people  had  believed  that  another  life,  and  not  this  one, 
was  really  to  be  considered.  Kind-hearted  men  had  tried 
to  draw  souls  to  heaven,  stern  men  to  drive  them  thither. 
The  effort  had  absorbed  the  energy  and  enthusiasm  of  a 
great  proportion  of  those  persons  who  were  willing  to  think 
of  anything  but  their  own  concerns.  But  in  the  eigh- 
teenth century  heaven  was  clouded.  Men's  eyes  were 
fixed  on  a  promised  land  nearer  their  own  level.  This 
world,  which  was  known  by  experience  to  be  but  too  often 
a  vale  of  tears,  was  soon,  very  soon,  by  the  operation  of 
the  fashionable  philosophy,  to  be  turned  into  something 
like  a  paradise.  To  bring  about  so  desirable  a  condition 
of  things,  the  tears  must  be  stopped  at  their  source.  Nor 
was  this  all.  The  world  had  acquired  a  new  interest.  It 
was  capable  of  improvement.  Hope  in  temporal  matters 
had  led  to  Faith,  —  Faith  in  progress  and  happiness  here 
below.  The  new  direction  given  to  Faith  and  Hope  was 
followed  by  Charity.  The  task  of  relieving  human  pain 
was  fairly  undertaken.  Sickness  and  insanity  were  better 
cared  for;  torture  was  abolished,  punishment  lightened. 
In  these  matters  the  government  rather  followed  than  led 
the  popular  aspirations.  In  its  general  inefficiency,  it 
came  halting  behind  the  good  intentions  of  the  people. 

The  virtues  toward  which  the  government  of  old  France 
tried  to  lead  the  French  nation  were  not,  as  we  have  seen, 
exactly  the  virtues  toward  which  the  national  conscience 
led.  The  government  upheld  loyalty  and  humanity,  and 
the  people  agreed  with  it ;  the  government  upheld  a  cen- 
tralized despotism  and  privileges,  and  the  popular  con- 
science called  for  liberty  and  equality.  In  religion  there 
was  both  agreement  and  divergence.  The  country,  in 
spite  of  Voltaire  and  the  Encyclopsedists,  believed  itself 
to  be  fervently  Catholic ;  but  its  ideal  of  Catholicism  was 
of  a  reformed  and  regenerated  type;  while  chat    main- 


CONCLUSION.  383 

tained  by  the  government  was  corrupt  and  lifeless  in  high 
places.  The  country  wanted  provincial  councils,  resident 
bishops,  a  purified  church. 

And  in  so  far  as  the  ideals  of  the  government  differed 
from  those  of  the  people,  the  monarchy  did  not  stand  for 
something  nobler  and  higher  than  the  moral  forces  that 
attacked  it.  The  French  nation  was  in  fact  better  than 
its  government,  more  honest  and  more  generous.  The 
country  priests  were  more  self -devoted  than  the  bishops 
who  ruled  over  them ;  the  poorer  nobles  were  more  public - 
spirited  and  more  moral  than  the  favored  nobility  of  the 
court;  the  citizens  of  the  Third  Estate  conducted  their 
private  business  more  honorably  than  the  administration 
conducted  the  business  of  the  country. 

If  the  stability  and  legitimacy  of  government  depend  on 
its  correspondence  with  the  real  powers  of  the  nation  and 
with  the  national  conscience,  the  functions  of  government 
embrace  something  harder  to  attain  even  than  this  agree- 
ment. No  sovereign  power,  be  it  that  of  an  autocrat 
on  his  throne  or  of  a  nation  in  its  councils,  can  directly 
carry  out  the  policy  which  it  desires  to  adopt.  The  sover- 
eign must  act  through  agents ;  and  on  the  proper  selection 
of  these  the  success  of  his  undertakings  will  largely  de- 
pend. Jurists  must  draft  the  laws,  judges  must  interpret 
them,  officers  must  enforce  obedience.  Generals,  com- 
manding soldiers,  must  defend  the  land.  Engineers  must 
construct  forts  and  roads ;  marine  architects  must  furnish 
plans  for  practical  ship- builders.  Financiers  must  devise 
schemes  of  taxation,  to  be  submitted  to  the  sovereign; 
collectors  of  various  kinds  must  levy  the  taxes  on  the 
people.  All  these  should  be  experts,  trained  to  do  their 
especial  work.  The  choice  of  experts,  then,  is  one  of  the 
most  important  functions  of  government. 

In  this  respect  the  administration  of  King  Louis  XVI. 
and  his  immediate  predecessor  was  usually,  although  not 
uniformly  bad.     The  army  and  navy,  until  the  last  years 


384     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

of  disorganization,  were  reasonably  efficient,  the  naval 
engineers  in  particular  being  the  best  then  at  work  in  the 
world.  The  civil  and  criminal  laws  were  chaotic,  more 
from  a  defect  of  legislation  than  of  administration.  Old 
privileges  and  anomalies  were  supported  by  the  govern- 
ment, but  good  jurists  and  magistrates  were  produced. 
Those  lawyers  can  hardly  have  been  incompetent  in  whose 
school  were  trained  the  framers  of  the  Code  Napoleon, 
the  model  of  modern  Europe.  Internal  order  and  police 
were  maintained  with  a  thoroughness  that  was  remarkable 
in  an  age  when  the  possession  of  a  good  horse  put  the 
highwayman  very  nearly  on  an  equality  with  the  officer. 
The  worst  experts  employed  by  the  government  appear  to 
have  been  those  connected  with  taxation  and  expenditure, 
from  the  Controller  of  the  Finances  to  the  last  clerk  in 
the  Excise.  The  schemes  of  most  of  them  were  blunder- 
ing, their  actions  were  too  often  dishonest.  They  never 
reached  the  art  of  keeping  accurate  accounts. 

The  condition  of  the  people  of  France,  both  in  Paris 
and  in  the  provinces,  was  far  less  bad  than  it  is  often 
represented  to  have  been.  The  foregoing  chapters  should 
have  given  the  impression  of  a  great,  prosperous,  modern 
country.  The  face  of  Europe  has  changed  since  1789 
more  through  the  enormous  number  and  variety  of  me- 
chanical inventions  that  have  marked  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury than  through  a  corresponding  increase  in  mental 
or  moral  growth.  While  production  and  wealth  have 
advanced  by  strides,  education  has  taken  a  few  falter- 
ing steps  forward.  Pecuniary  honesty  has  probably  in- 
creased, honesty  and  industry  being  the  virtues  especially 
fostered  by  commerce  and  manufactures.  Bigotry,  the 
unwillingness  to  permit  in  others  thought  and  language 
unpalatable  to  ourselves,  has  become  less  virulent,  but 
has  not  disappeared.  It  is  shown  alike  by  the  church 
and  by  her  enemies.  Yet  the  tone  of  controversy  has 
softened  even  in   France.      There  are  fewer  Voltairean 


CONCLUSION.  385 

sneers,  fewer  episcopal  anathemas.  Humanity  has  been 
growing ;  the  rich  and  prosperous  becoming  more  alive  to 
the  suffering  around  them.  But  it  is  the  material  pro- 
gress that  is  most  striking,  after  all.  The  poor  are  better 
off'  than  they  were  a  hundred  years  ago,  and  the  rich  also. 
The  minimum  required  by  custom  for  the  decent  support 
of  life  has  risen.  The  earners  of  wages  are  better  housed, 
fed,  and  clothed  in  return  for  fewer  hours  of  labor.  In 
France,  as  in  the  world,  there  are  many  more  things  to 
divide,  and  things  are,  on  the  whole,  more  evenly  divided. 

If  we  compare  the  France  of  1789  no  longer  with  the 
France  of  1892,  but  with  the  other  countries  of  Continen- 
tal Europe  as  they  were  in  the  days  preceding  the  great 
Revolution,  we  find  that  she  was  worse  governed  than  a 
few  of  them.  The  administration  of  Prussia  while  the 
great  King  Frederick  sat  on  the  throne  was  probably 
better  than  that  of  France.  After  his  death  it  rapidly 
fell  off,  until  a  series  of  defeats  had  been  earned  by  mis- 
government  at  Berlin.  In  a  few  of  the  smaller  states, 
such  as  Holland,  the  Swiss  cantons,  or  Tuscany,  the  citi- 
zen was  perhaps  better  governed  than  in  France.  But  in 
general,  life  and  property  appear  to  have  been  less  safe 
beyond  the  French  border  than  within  it.  A  small  des- 
potism, when  it  is  bad,  is  more  searching  and  interfering 
than  a  large  one.  The  lords  of  France  were  tyrannous 
enough  at  times,  but  there  were  always  courts  of  law  and 
a  royal  court  above  them,  and  appeals  for  justice,  al- 
though doubtful,  might  yet  be  attempted  with  a  hope  of 
success. 

The  intellectual  leadership  of  France  in  Europe  was 
very  clearly  marked  under  Louis  XV.  French  was  un- 
questionably the  language  of  the  well-born  and  the  witty 
as  it  was  the  favorite  language  of  the  learned  all  over  the 
Continent.  The  reputation  of  Voltaire,  Diderot,  d'Alem- 
bert,  and  Rousseau,  was  distinctly  European.  Frederick 
of  Prussia  was  glad  to  compose  his  academy  at  Berlin  of 


386     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

second-rate  French  men  of  letters,  and  to  make  his  own 
attempts  at  literary  distinction  in  the  French  language. 
Smaller  German  princes  modeled  their  courts  on  that  of 
Versailles,  and  ruined  themselves  in  palaces  and  gardens 
that  were  distant  copies  of  those  of  that  famous  suburb. 
This  spirit  lasted  well  down  to  1789,  although  the  master- 
pieces of  Lessing  were  already  twenty  years  old,  and 
those  of  Goethe  and  Schiller  had  begun  to  aj)pear. 

But  while  France  was  great,  prosperous,  and  growing, 
and  a  model  to  her  neighbors,  she  was  deeply  discon- 
tented. The  condition  of  other  countries  was  less  good 
than  hers,  but  the  minds  of  the  people  of  those  countries 
had  not  risen  above  their  condition.  France  had  become 
conscious  that  her  government  did  not  correspond  to  her 
degree  of  civilization.  *  The  fact  was  emphasized  in  the 
national  mind  by  the  mediocrity  of  Louis  XY.  as  a  sover- 
eign and  by  the  utter  incompetence  of  his  well-meaning 
successor.  In  hands  so  feeble,  the  smallest  excess  of  ex- 
penditure over  income  was  important  as  a  symptom  of 
weakness,  and  for  many  years  the  deficit  had  in  fact  been 
increasing.  The  financial  situation  gave  the  nation  a 
ground  of  attack  against  its  government ;  it  was  not  the 
cause  of  the  Eevolution,  but  its  occasion.  All  the  ma- 
chinery of  the  state  needed  to  be  inspected,  repaired,  or 
renewed.  The  people  entered  into  the  task  with  good 
will,  and  the  warmest  interest.  But  they  were  entirely 
without  experience.  They  knew  and  believed  that  old 
forms  were  to  be  respected  as  far  as  might  be  compatible 
with  new  conditions ;  they  thought  that  the  improvements 
needed  were  so  obvious  that  nothing  but  fairness  was 
required  to  recognize  them.  In  their  ignorance  of  the 
working  of  popular  assemblies  they  supposed  them  to  be 
inspired  with  wisdom  and  virtue  beyond  that  of  the  in- 
dividuals who  compose  them. 

This  is  a  mistake  not  likely  to  occur  to  any  one  who  has 
experience   of   public   meetings;  but   among  the  twelve 


CONCLUSION.  387 

hundred  deputies  to  the  Estates  General,  and  among  their 
constituents  all  over  France,  no  one  had  much  experience. 
A  hundred  and  forty  Notables,  in  1787  and  1788,  had 
deliberated  on  public  questions ;  but  their  work  had  been 
done  principally  in  committee,  and  their  conclusions  were 
without  binding  force  on  anybody,  their  functions  being 
merely  advisory.  A  good  many  delegates  had  been  mem- 
bers of  provincial  assemblies  or  provincial  estates;  but 
these,  in  most  of  the  provinces,  had  met  but  a  few  times, 
and  their  powers  had  been  very  limited.  Such  assemblies 
could  do  some  good,  and  were  carefully  hedged  from  do- 
ing much  harm.  As  training  for  membership  in  a  body 
which  was  to  discuss  all  sorts  of  questions  and  possess  al- 
most absolute  power,  experience  among  the  Notables  or  in 
the  provincial  assemblies  and  estates,  although  valuable, 
was  insufficient,  and  comparatively  few  of  the  members 
had  even  so  much.  Nor  was  foreign  example  of  avail. 
No  great  scholar  had  published  in  French  a  study  of 
the  parliamentary  history  of  England,  nor  were  French- 
men prepared  to  profit  by  English  experience.  Absolute 
right,  according  to  his  own  ideas,  was  what  every  man 
expected  to  obtain. 

A  public  body,  although  less  wise  than  the  best  of  its 
members,  has  one  great  advantage  over  a  natural  person, 
and  experience  has  taught  the  nations  that  have  made  self- 
government  successful  to  profit  by  this  advantage.  A 
public  body  may  be  so  tied  by  its  own  rules  that  it  can 
act  but  slowly.  Thus  the  hot  desire  of  to-day  may  be 
moderated  by  the  cool  reflection  of  to-morrow.  To  this 
end  are  arranged  the  three  readings  of  bills  and  the  vari- 
ous other  dilatory  devices  of  most  parliaments  and  con- 
gresses. But  when  great  constitutional  changes  are  to  be 
attempted,  such  measures  as  these  are  insufficient.  Great 
changes  should  be  introduced  one  by  one,  separately  de- 
bated and  fought  over.  Elections  should  be  repeated  dur- 
ing the  process ;  much  time  should  be  allowed  and  many 


388     THE  EVE  OF  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION. 

tedious  forms  observed.  Under  these  circumstances  the 
legislature  may  be  no  wiser  than  a  common  man,  but  how 
often  would  a  common  man  do  anything  very  foolish  if  he 
took  several  years  to  think  about  it  ? 

The  French  assembly  did  not  and  could  not  take  the 
necessary  time  and  precautions.  The  country  was  seeth- 
ing and  bubbling.  The  deputies  were  honest  and  patri- 
otic. They  were  generally  men  of  local  reputation  who 
had  pushed  themselves  forward  by  political  agitation  and 
by  activity  in  the  elections.  It  is  probable  that  the  pro- 
portion of  violent  men  among  them  was  larger  than  in  the 
nation,  for  they  were  chosen  in  a  time  of  excitement, 
when  violence  of  thought  and  language  was  likely  to  be 
popular;  yet  the  assembly  comprised  als($  most  of  the 
truly  distinguished  men  in  France.  What  was  wanting 
was  not  natural  ability,  but  experience,  calmness,  and 
patience. 

It  is  not  the  purpose  of  this  book  to  follow  them  in  their 
great  undertaking.  They  accomplished  for  France  much 
that  was  good ;  they  prepared  the  way  for  much  that  was 
evil.  Enough  if  the  condition  of  the  country  before  the 
great  Eevolution  began  has  been  here  set  down. 


INDEX   OF  EDITIONS  CITED. 


Alembert,  (T.     CEJuvres.     18  vols.     Paris,  1805. 

Allomville,  C"</'.     M^nioires  secrets  de  1770  ^1830.     6  vols.     Paris, 

1838-45. 
Ambert,  La  Calotte.     Un  regiment  peu  connu.      In  Moniteur  Universel, 

Nov.  25th  to  30th,  1864. 
Anciennes    Lois    Franjaises,    Eecueil    general   des.     Depuis   Fan   420 

jiisqu'^  la  revolution  de  1789.     30  vols.     Paris,  1821-33. 
AiiCHivEs  parlementaires  de  1787  k  1860.     Recueil  eomplet  de  d^bats 

l^g-islatifs  et  politiques  des  chambres  frangaises  imprim^  par  ordre  du 

S^nat  et  de  la  Chambre  des  D^putds  sous  la  direction  de  M.  J.  Mavidal 

et  de  M.  E.  Laurent.   l'*"Serie;  tome  1-37,  1787-92.     2^"  S^rie;  tome 

1-81,  1800-33.     119  vols.     Paris,  1862-91. 
Argenson,  Marquis  d\    Journal  et  M^mou-es.     9  vols.     Paris,  1859-67. 

Babeau,    Albert.     Les  artisans   et   les   domestiques   dautrefois.     Paris. 

1886. 
■  Les  Bourgeois  d' autrefois.     Paris,  1886. 

L'^cole  de  village  pendant  la  revolution.     Paris,  1881. 

Paris  en  1789.     Paris,  1890. 

La  vie  militaire  sous  I'ancien  regime.     2  vols.     Paris,  1890. 

La  vie  rurale  dans  I'ancienne  France.     Paris,  1883. 

Le  village  sous  I'ancien  regime.     Paris,  1878. 

La  ville  sous  I'ancien  regime.     Paris,  1880. 

(Bachaumont.)     M^raoires  secrets  pour  servir  k  I'liistoire  de  la  rdpublique 

des  lettres  en  France,  1762-88.     33  vols.     Londres  (Paris)  1784-88. 

Bacon,  Francis.  Works.  Ed.  Spedding,  Ellis,  and  Heath.  7  vols.  Lon- 
don, 1857-59. 

Bailly,  a.     Histoire  financi^re  de  la  France.     2  vols.     Paris,  1830. 

Barrier.  Chronique  de  la  r^gence  et  du  r^gne  de  Louis  XV.  (1718-63) 
ou  Journal  de.     8  vols.     Paris,  1857. 

Barrere,  B.  M^raoires.  Publics  par  XL  Carnot  et  E.  David  (d' Angers). 
4  vols.     Paris,  1842. 

Barthelemy,  Ch.  Erreurs  et  mensonges  historiques.  15  vols.  Paris, 
1863-82. 

Bastard-d'Estang,  Vico7nte  de.  Les  Parlements  de  France.  2  vols. 
Paris,  1857. 


390  INDEX   OF   EDITIONS   CITED. 

Bayle,  Pierre.     CEuvres  diverses.     4  vols.     A  la  Haye,  1725-31. 
Beaumakchais.     CEuvres  completes.     6  vols.     Paris,  1826. 
Beccaria.     An  essay  on  crimes  and  punishments.     London,  1770. 
Bengesco,  Georges.     Voltaire,  —  Bibliographie  de  ses  CEuvres.     4  vols. 

Paris,  1882-90. 
Bertrand  de  MoLEViLLE,  A.  F.     Histoire  de  la  revolution  de  France, 

pendant  les  derni^res  ann^es  du  r^gne  de  Louis  XVI.     14  vols.     Paris, 

1801-1803. 
M^moires  particuliers  pour  servir  h  1' histoire  de  la  fin  du  r^gne  de 

Louis  XVI.     2  vols.     Paris,  1816. 
Besenval,  Baron  de.     M^moires.     2  vols.    Paris,  1821.    In  Collection  des 

mdmoires  rdlatifs  k  la  revolution  frangaise  of  MM.   Berville  et  Bar- 

ri^re.     Vols.  6  and  7. 
Beugnot,  C*"  Albert.     Memoires.     2  vols.     Paris,  1866. 
Blackstone's  Commentaries.     4  vols.     Philadelphia,  1803. 
Bois-Guillebert.     Le  detail  de  la  France,  1695.     In  Archives  curieuses 

de  I'histoire  de  France  depuis  Louis  XL  jusqu'k  Louis  XVIII.     27  vols. 

Paris,  1834-40.     Vol.  12. 
Brissot  de  Warville.     Memoires  sur  les  contemporains  et  la  Revolution 

f  rangaise.     4  vols.     Paris,  1830-32. 
Broc,  F'^  de.     La  France  sous  I'ancien  regime.     2  vols.     Paris,  1887-89. 
BoiTEAu,  Paul     Etat  de  la  France  en  1789.     Paris,  1861. 
Bos,  Emile.     Les  avocats  au  conseil  du  roi.     Paris,  1881. 
(Burke,  Edmund.)     Observations  on  a  late  State  of  the  Nation.     Lon- 
don, 1769. 

Campan,  Mme.     Memoires  sur  la  vie  privee  de  Marie  Antoinette.     3  vols. 

Paris,  1822.     In  Collection  des  memoires  relatifs  h  la  revolution  fran- 

gaise  of  MM.  Berville  et  Barri^re.     Vols.  10-12. 
Carne,  Le  C^  Louis.     La   monarchic   frangaise   au   dix-huiti^me  si^cle. 

Paris,  1859. 
Chabaud- Arnault,  C.    Histoire  des  flottes  maritimes.    Paris  and  Nancy, 

1889. 
Charnock,  John.     An  History  of  Marine  Architecture.     3  vols.     London, 

1800-2. 
Chassin,  Ch.  L.     Les  cahi^rs  des  cures.     Paris,  1882. 
(Chastellux.)     De  la  feiicite  publique  ou  considerations  sur  le  sort  des 

hommes  dans  les  differentes  epoques  de  I'histoire.    2  vols.    Amsterdam, 

1772. 
Chatelain,  Le  docteur.     La  folic  de  J.  J.  Rousseau.     Paris,  1890. 
Cherest,    Aime.     La   chute   de    I'ancien   regime    (1787-1789).     3   vols. 

Paris,  1884-86. 
Chevalier,  E.     Histoire  de  la  marine  frangaise  pendant  la  guerre  de 

I'independance  americaine.     Paris,  1877. 
Clamageran,  J.  J.     Histoire  de  I'impot  en  France.    3  vols.    Paris,  1867-' 

76. 
(Cognel.)     La  vie  parisienne  sous  Louis  XVI.    Paris,  1882. 


INDEX   OF   EDITIONS   CITED.  391 

Collier,  Sir  George.   France  on  the  Eve  of  the  Great  Revolution.  France, 

Holland,  and  the  Netherlands  a  Century  Ago.     London,  1865. 
CoNDOKCET.     (Euvres.     12  vols.     Paris,  1847-49. 
Constitutions  des  Treize  Etats-Unis  de  rAm^rique.     A  Philadelphie  et 

se  trouve  k  Paris.     1783. 
(Constitutions.)     Recueil  des  loix  constitutives  des  colonies,  anglaises 

conf^der^es  sous  la  denomination  d' Etats-Unis  de  rAm^rique-septentrio- 

nale.     A  Philadelphie,  et  se  vend  k  Paris,  1778. 
CoQUEREL,  Athanase,  Fils.     Les  Formats  pour  la  foi.     Paris,  1866. 

Dareste,  C.     Histoire  de  France.     8  vols.     Paris,  1865-73. 

Desjakdins,  Albert.  Les  cahiers  des  Etats  Gdn^raux  en  1789  et  la  legis- 
lation criminelle.     Paris,  1883. 

Desmaze,  Charles.  Les  p^nalit^s  anciennes.  Supplices,  prisons  et  grace 
en  France.     Paris,  1SG6. 

Desnoiresterres,  Gustave.     La  jeunesse  de  Voltaire.     Paris,  1867. 

Voltaire  au  chateau  de  Circy.     Paris,  18G8. 

Voltaire  et  J.  J.  Rousseau.     Paris,  1874. 

Diderot.  M^moires,  correspondance  et  ouvrages  inddits  de  1759  h  1780. 
4  vols.     Paris,  1830-31. 

(Euvres.     21  vols.     Paris,  1821. 

Droz,  Joseph.     Histoire  du  r^gne  de  Louis  XVI.  pendant  les  ann^es  ou  I'on 

pouvait  pr^venir  ou  diriger  la  revolution  frangaise.     3  vols.     Paris,  1860. 
Du  Boys,  Albert.    Histoire  du  droit  criminel  de  la  France,  depuis  le  XVI. 

jusqu'au  XIX  si^cle,  compare  avec  celui  de  I'ltalie,  de  I'Allemagne,  et 

de  I'Angleterre.     2  vols.     Paris,  1874. 
DuFORT,  J.  N.,  C'^  de  Cheverny.    Memoires  sur  les  r^gnes  de  Louis  XV.  et 

LouLs  XVI.  et  sur  la  revolution.     2  vols.     1886. 
DuMOURiEZ.     La  vie  du  general.     3  vols.     Hamburg,  1795. 

Enctclopedie  ou  dictionnaire  raisonne  des  sciences,  des  arts,  et  des  me- 
tiers, par  une  societe  de  gens  de  lettres.  35  vols.  Paris,  1751-80.  See 
p.  254  n. 

Encyclopedie  methodique.  159  vols,  and  43  vols,  of  plates.  Paris, 
1782-1830. 

Felice,   G.  de.     History  of  the  Protestants  of  France.     Translated  by 

Philip  Edw.  Barnes.     London,  1853. 
Ff:NELON.     QCuvres  completes.     10  vols.     Paris,  1851-52. 
Fersen,  Le  C"  de,  et  la  cour  de  France.     2  vols.     Paris,  1877-78. 
FouRNEL,  Vict(fr.     Les  rues  du  vieux  Paris.     Paris,  1879. 
Franklin,  Alfred.     La  vie  privee  d' autrefois.     L'hygi^ne.     Paris,  1890. 

La  vie  privee  d'autrefois.     Les  soins  de  toilette.     Paris,  1887. 

Franklin,  Benjamin,  The  complete  works  of.     Edited  by  John  Bigelow. 

10  vols.     New  York  and  London,  1887-88. 
Freron,  Les  confessions  de.     (1719-1776.)     Receuilles  et  annotes  par  Ch. 
Bartheiemy.     Paris,  1876. 


392  INDEX   OF   EDITIONS   CITED. 

Geffroy,  G.  a.     Gustave  III.  et  le  cour  de  France.     2  vols.     Paris,  1867. 

Genlis,  C**"  de.  Dictionnaire  eritiqu^  et  raisonn^  des  Etiquettes  de  la 
Cour.     2  vols.     Paris,  1818. 

Gomel,  Charles.  Les  causes  financi^res  de  la  revolution  frangaise.  Les 
minist^res  de  Turgot  et  de  Necker.     Paris,  1892. 

Grosse,  VAhhe  E.  Dictionnaii-e  d'antiphilosophisme,  ou  refutation  des 
erreurs  du  18*  si^ele  d'apr^s  Nonnotte  et  Cliaudon.  Paris,  1856.  In 
Encyclop^die  th^ologique,  vol.  18. 

(Grenville,  George.)  The  Present  State  of  tlie  Nation;  particularly 
■with  respect  to  its  trade,  finances,  etc.,  etc.     London,  1769» 

Grimm,  Diderot,  etc.  Correspondance,  litt^raire,  philosophique,  et  cri- 
tique.    16  vols.    Paris,  1877-82. 

Helvetius.     CEuvres  completes.     5  vols.     Paris,  1795. 

HrpPEAU,  C.     Les  elections  de  1789  en  Normandie.     Paris,  1869. 

HOBBES,  Thomas.  Leviathan,  or  the  Matter,  Forme,  &  Power  of  a  Com- 
monwealth Ecclesiastical  and  Civil.     London,  1651. 

(HoLBACH.)  Syst^me  de  la  nature,  par  M.  Mirabaud.  2  vols.  Londres 
(Paris),  1770. 

Hooker,  Richard.     Works.     3  volst     Oxford,  1841. 

Horn,  J.  E.     L'^conomie  politique  avant  les  Physiocrates.     Paris,  1867. 

Howard,  John.  An  Account  of  the  Principal  Lazzarettos  of  Europe. 
Warrington,  1789. 

The  State  of  the  Prisons  in  England  and  Wales  ;  with  ...  an 

account  of  some  foreign  prisons  and  hospitals.     Warrington,  1784. 

JuLLiANY,  Jules.  Essai  sur  le  commerce  de  Marseille.  3  vols.  Mar- 
seilles and  Paris,  1842. 

La  Bruyerb.     (Euvres.     4  vols.     Paris,  1865-78. 
Lafayette,  Le  general.     M^moires.     2  vols.     Brussels,  1837-39. 
Lafayette,   Vie  de  M"'*  de,  par  M"*-   de   Lasteyrie,   sa  fille,  pr^cedee 

d'une  notice  sur  la  vie  de  sa  m^re,  M""*-  la  Duchesse  d'Ayen,  1737-1807. 

Paris,  1869. 
Laferriere.     Histoire  du  droit  frangais.     2  vols.     1838. 
Laharpe,  Jean-Franqois.     Correspondance  litt^raire  addressee  k  son  al- 

tesse  imperiale,  Mgr.  le  Grand-Due  aujourd'hui  Empereur  de  Russie, 

etc.     4  vols.     Paris,  1804. 
Lameth,    Alex.     Histoire   de    I'assemhiee    constituante.     2   vols.     Paris, 

1828-29. 
Lanfrey,  p.     L'Eglise  et  les  Philosophes  au  18  si^cle.     Paris,  1879. 
Larousse,  Pierre.     Grand  dictionnaire  universel  du  XIX  siecle,  15  and  2 

vols.     Paris,  1866-90. 
Lauzun,  Due  de.     M^moires.     Paris,  1862.     In  Barri^re,  Biblioth^que  des 

m^moires  relatifs  h  I'histoire  de  France  pendant  le  18®  siecle.     Vol.  25. 
Lavergne,   Leonce   de.     Les   assemblies   provinciales   sous   Louis  XVL 

Paris,  1864. 
Les  economistes  frangais  du  18"  siecle.     Paris,  1870. 


INDEX   OF   EDITIONS   CITED.  393 

Lea,  Henry  C.     Superstition  and  Force.     Philadelphia,  1S78. 

Lefranc    de   Pompignan,   Jean   Georges.     (Euvres  completes.     2   vols. 

Paris,  1855. 
Lemoine,    Alfred.     Les   derniers   ferniiers  g-^n^raux   1774,   1793.     Paris, 

1872.     (Published  in  a  small  volume  with  Cltinent  M.  de  Silhouette  and 

Bouret.) 
Lestoile,  rierre  de.     Supplement  au  r^c^istre- journal  du  r^g-ne  de  Henri 

IV.     In  Michadd  and  Ponjolat,  Nouvelle  collection  de  m^moires  relatifs 

k  I'histoire  le  France.     34  vols.     Paris,  1854.     Vol.  15. 
Levasseur,  E.     Ilistoire  des  classes  ou\Ti6res  en  France.     2  vols.     Paris, 

1859. 
Locke,  John.    Works.     10  vols.     London,  1823. 

LoMENiE,  Louis  de.     Beaumarchais  et  son  temps.     2  vols.     Paris,  1856. 
Lowell,  A.  Lawrence.     Essays  on  Government.     Boston  and  New  York, 

1889. 
LucAY,  Vicomte  de.     Les  assemblies  provinciales  sous  Louis  XVI.  et  les 

divisions  administratives  de  1789.     Paris,  1871. 
Des  origines  du  pouvoir  minist^riel  en  France.  —  Les  secretaires 

d'etat  depuis  leur  institution  jusqu'k  la  mort  de  Louis  XV.     Paris,  1881. 

Machlwelli,  Niccolo,  The  Historical,  Political,  and  Diplomatic  Writings 
of.     Translated  by  Christian  E.  Detmold.     4  vols.     Boston,  1882. 

Marmontel.     (Euvres  posthumes.     M^moires.     4  vols.     Paris,  1804. 

Martens,  Geo.  Fr^d.  de.  Reeueil  de  trait^s,  etc.,  depuis  1701  jusqu'^ 
present.     2d  ed.,  8  vols.     Gottingen,  1817-35. 

Martin,  Henri.     Histoire  de  France.     16  vols.     Paris,  1855-60. 

Mathieu,  L'abU  D.  L'ancien  regime  dans  la  province  de  Lorraine  et 
Barrois.     Paris,  1879. 

Mercier,  Louis  Sebastien.  Tableau  de  Paris.  12  vols.  Amsterdam 
(Paris  ?),  1782-88. 

Mercy-Argenteau,  C"  de.  Marie  Antoinette.  —  Correspondance  se- 
crete entre  Marie-Ther^se  et  le  C"=  de  M.  A.,  avec  les  lettres  de  Marie 
Ther^se  et  de  Marie  Antoinette.  Edited  by  D'Arneth  and  Geffroy. 
3  vols.     Paris,  1874. 

Miot  de  Melito,  C*  de.     Memoires.     3  vols.     Paris,  1858. 

MiRABEAU,  Marquis  de,  L'ami  des  Hommes,  ou  Traite  de  la  Population. 
Paris,  1883. 

MoNiN,  H.     L'Etat  de  Paris  en  1789.     Paris,  1889. 

MoNiTEUR  Universel  du  soir.     Journal  officiel  de  I'Empire  franQais. 

Montagu,  Anne-PauleDominique  de  Noailles,  Marquise  de.     Paris,  1860. 

Montaigne,  Les  Essais.    4  vols.     Paris,  1873-75. 

Montbarey,  Prince  de.     Memoires.     2  vols.     Paris,  1826. 

Montesquieu.  (Euvres  completes.  Notes  par  Edouard  Laboulaye. 
7  vols.     Paris,  1875-79. 

Moore,  John,  M.  D.  A  View  of  Society  and  Manners  in  France,  Switzer- 
land, and  Germany.     2  vols.     London,  178.'. 

Morellet,  L'Abb4.     Memou-es  inedits.     2  vols.     Paris,  1822. 


394  INDEX  OF   EDITIONS   CITED. 

MoKELLY.  Code  de  la  nature,  ou  le  veritable  Esprit  des  Loix,  de  tout 
temps  n^glig^,  ou  m^eonnu.  Published  as  by  Diderot  in  vol.  ii.  of  his 
Works,  ed.  London  (Paris),  1773. 

MoRLEY,  John.     Diderot  and  the  Encyclopaedists.     2  vols.    London,  1878. 

Rousseau.     2  vols.     London,  1873. 

Voltaire.     New  York,  1872. 

Morton,  Nathaniel.    New  England's  Memorial.     Boston,  1826. 
MuiRHEAD,  Lockhart.    Journals  of  Travels  in  Parts  of  the  late  Austrian 

Low  Countries,  France,  the  Pays  de  Vaud,  and  Tuscany,  in  1787  and 

1789.    London,  1803. 
(Musset-Pathay.)     Histoire  de  la  vie  et  des  ouvrages  de  J.  J.  Rousseau. 

2  vols.     Paris,  1822. 

Neckeb,  Jacques.  De  I'administration  des  finances  de  la  France.  3  vols, 
n.  p.     1784. 

Compte  rendu  au  roi  au  mois  de  Janvier,  1781.     Paris,  1781. 

M^moire  de  M.  Necker  au  roi  sur  I'^tablissement  des  administra- 
tions provinciales.     n.  p.     1785. 

NisABD,  Charles.     Les  ennemis  de  Voltaire.     Paris,  1853. 

(Notables.)     Histoire  du  gouvemement  fran^ais  depuis  I'Assembl^e  des 

Notables  tenue  le  22  F^vrier,  1787,  jusqu'k  la  fin  de  D^cembre  de  la 

meme  ann^e ;  suivie  de  Taction  de  I'opinion  sur  les  gouvernemens,  h 

Londres.     (Paris),  1789. 
NouvELLE    BiOGRAPHiE    Untverselle   {ginirole).    Edited    by  Hoefer. 

46  vols.    Paris,  1852-66. 

Olivieb,  Edouard.    La  France  avant  et  pendant  la  Revolution.    Paris, 

1889. 

Palissot  de  Montenoy.     Les  Philosophes :  com^die.     Paris,  1760. 

(Pamphlets  of  1788  and  1789.)  Avis  au  public  et  principalement  au 
Tiers-Etat,  de  la  part  du  Commandant  du  Chateau  des  iles  de  Sainte- 
Marguerite,  et  du  m^decin,  et  du  chirurgien,  etc.,  du  meme  lieu.  Du  10 
Novembre,  1788.  Se  vend  aux  Iles  Ste-Marguerite ;  et  se  distribue 
gratis  h  Paris. 

Bien-n^.     Nouvelles   et    anecdotes.     Apologie    de    la    Flatterie. 

Paris,  1788. 

■  Ce  qu'on  a  surement  oubli^.     1789. 

Cr^do  du  Tiers-Etat,   ou  Symbole  politico-moral.     A  I'usage  de 


tons  les  amis  de  I'Etat  et  de  1' Humanity.     1789. 

Diog^ne  aux  Etats  G^n^raux.     Se  vend  chez  Diog^ne  dans  son 


tonneau. 

Discours  sur  les  Etats  G^n^raux,  par  M.  de  la  Boissiere,  Conseil- 


ler,  Avocat  G^n^ral  au  Parlement  du  Dauphin^.     1789. 

Lettre  d'un  gentilhomme  bourguignon  k  un  gentilhomme  breton, 


sur  Tattaque  du  Tiers-Etat,  la  division  de  la  Noblesse  et  I'intdret  des 
Cultivateurs.     1789. 


INDEX   OF   EDITIONS   CITED.  395 

(Pamphlets  of  1788  and  1789.)     Lettre  d'un  paysan;  h.  Messieurs  les 
Censeurs  du  Caveau,  au  Palais-Royal.     (1781).) 

Le  Mag'iiificat  du  Tiei-s-Etat,   Tel  qu'on  doit   le  chauter  le  20 

Avril  aux  premieres  Vupres  des  Etats  G^n^raux.     1780. 

Le  monstre  d^chir^.     Vision  proph^tique  d'un  Persan  qui  ne  dort 

pas  toujours.    A  Ispahan  et  se  trouve  h  Paris  chez  les  marchands  de 
\6Tit6.     1789. 

Pens^es  d^taeli^es  h,  I'usage  de  la  nation  frangaise  depuis  le  1'" 

Mai,  1788. 

Projet  d'alliance  matrimonial e  entre  M.  Tiers-Etat  et  Madame 


Noblesse.     (1789.) 

Quand  le  coq  chantera,  gare  aux  vieilles  poules.     L.  C.  D.  S.  F. 


Harangue  de  Gros-Jean  sur  les  lettres  de  convocation  des  Etats  G^n^- 
raux.     Prononc^e  le  9  Mars,  1789. 

Les  quarante  voeux  principaux  de  la  nation.     1*789. 

Qu'est-ce  que  le  Tiers-Etat,  par  Emmanuel  Siey^s.     Paris,  1888. 

Le  Requiem  des  Fermiers  G^n^raux,  ou  plan  de  revolution  dans 


les  finances.     (Lyon,  29  Mars,  1789.) 

Le  retour  de  Babouc  k  Pers^polis,  ou  la  suite  du  monde  comma  il 


va.     A  Concordopolis.     1789. 

Le  Te  Deum  du  Tiers-Etat.     Tel  qu'il  sera  chants  k  la  premiere 

messe  des  Etats  G^n^raux.  Le  confiteor  de  la  Noblesse  Envoy^  k  Notre 
Saint-P6re  le  Pape,  Suivie  de  la  contrition  tardive  ;  avec  des  notes  tiroes 
du  Texte  Parisien.     1789. 

Ultimatum  d'un  citoyen  du  Tiers-Etat  au  m^moire  des  princes. 

1789.     Prdsente  au  Roi. 

Plato,  The  Dialogues  of.  Translated  by  B.  Jowett,  M.  A.  5  vols.  Ox- 
ford, 1875. 

PoNCiNS,  Leon  de.  Les  cahiers  de  1789,  ou  les  vrais  principes  lib^raiix. 
Paris,  1887. 

Pkoudhomme.  Traits  des  droits  appartenans  aux  seigneurs  sur  les  biens 
poss^d^s  en  roture.     Paris,  1781. 

QuESNAY,  F.  CEuvres  ^conomiques  et  philosophiques.  Frankfort  and 
Paris,  1888. 

Rambaud,  Alfred.  Histoire  de  la  civilization  frangaise.  3  vols.  Paris, 
1887-88. 

Randall,  II.  S.     Life  of  Thomas  Jefferson.     3  vols.     New  York,  1858. 

Revue  des  deux  mondes. 

Revue  des  Questions  Historiques. 

Ribbe,  Charles  de.  Les  families  et  la  soci^t^  en  France  avant  la  revolu- 
tion.    2  vols.     Tours,  1S79. 

RiGBY,  Dr.     Letters  from  France,  etc.,  in  1789.     London,  1880. 

Rochambeau.  M^moires  militaires,  historiques  et  politiques.  2  vols. 
Paris,  1809. 

RocQUAiN,  Fdix.  L'Esprit  revolufonnaire  avant  la  revolution  (1715- 
1789).     Paris,  1878. 


396  INDEX   OF  EDITIONS   CITED. 

Rosenthal,  Leivis.     America  and  France.     The  Influence  of  the  United 

States  on  France  in  the  18th  Century.     New  York,  1882. 
Rousseau,  J.  J.    CEuvres  completes.    27  vols.     Paris,  1824-25. 

Sadlier's  Catholic  Directory,  Almanac,  and  Ordo  for  1885.     New  York. 

Sainte-Beuve,  C.  a.     Causeries  du  Lundi.     15  vols.     Paris,  1851-62. 

Sallier,  Guy-Marie.  Annales  frangaises  depuis  le  commencement  du 
r^gne  de  Louis  XVI.,  jusqu'aux  Etats  G^n^raux,  1774  k  1789.  Paris, 
1813. 

Saxe,  Maurice  C"  de.  Les  reveries,  ou  M^moires  sur  I'art  de  la  guerr^. 
2  vols.     The  Hague,  1756. 

Scherer,  Edmond.     Diderot.    Paris,  1880. 

SciouT,  Ludovic.  Histoire  de  la  constitution  civile  du  clerge,  1790-1801, 
4  vols.     Paris,  1872-81. 

Segur,  C*^  de.  M^moires.  2  vols.  Paris,  1859.  In  Barri^re,  Biblio- 
th^que  des  M^moires  relatifs  k  I'histoire  de  France  pendant  le  18*  si^cle. 
Vols.  19  and  20. 

SiEYES,  Emmanuel.  Qu'est  ce  que  le  Tiers-Etat.  Paris,  1888.  (See 
Pamphlets  of  1788  and  1789.) 

SoREL,  Albert.  L'Europe  et  la  revolution  frangaise ;  1'*"  partie.  Les 
moeurs  polit.  et  les  traditions.     Paris,  1887. 

Stevens,  B.  F.  Fac-similes  of  Manuscripts  in  European  Archives  Relat- 
ing to  America,  1773-1783.  12  vols.  London,  1889.  (Still  in  course  of 
publication.) 

Stourm,  Bene.  Les  finances  de  I'aneien  regime  et  de  la  revolution.  2  vols. 
Paris,  1885. 

Stubbs,  William.  Seventeen  Lectures  on  the  Study  of  Mediaeval  and  Mod- 
ern History,  and  Kindred  Subjects.     London,  1886. 

SusANE.  Histoire  de  I'ancienne  infanterie  frangaise.  9  vols.  Paris, 
1849-53. 

Swinburne,  Henri/.  The  Courts  of  Europe  at  the  Close  of  the  Last  Cen- 
tury.    2  vols.     London,  1841. 

Sybel,  Heinrich  von.  History  of  the  French  Revolution.  4  vols.  Lon- 
don, 1867. 

Taine.     Les  Origines  de  la  France  contemporaine  :   L'ancien  regime. 

Thierry,  Augustin.  Essai  sur  I'histoire  de  la  formation  et  des  progrfes  du 
Tiers-Etat.     2  vols.     Paris,  1856. 

Tilly,  C*^  Alexandre  de.  Souvenirs.  In  Biblioth^que  des  M^moires  rela- 
tifs k  I'histoire  de  France  pendant  le  18*  si^cle,  par  M.  Fs.  Barri^re. 
Vol.  25. 

TocQUEviLLE,  AUxis  de.    CEuvres  completes.    9  vols.     1864-66. 

TuRGOT.     CEuvres.     9  vols.     Paris,  1808-11. 

Vau3AN.     Dime  royale.     Paris,  n.  d. 

Vian,  Louis.     Histoire  de  Montesquieu.     Paris,  1878. 

Voltaire.     Collection  complette    des    ceuvres.     45   vols.      Geneva    and 


INDEX   OF   EDITIONS   CITED.  397 

Paris,  1768-96.     (One  reference  only  to  this  edition  ;  all  others  to  Beu- 
chot's  edition.) 
(Euvres,  ed.  Beuchot.     72  vols.     Paris,  1829-40. 


Walpole,  Horace.     Letters.     9  vols.     London,  1866. 

Washington,  George,  The  Writings  of.     Edited  by  Jared  Sparks.     12 

vols.     Boston,  1837. 
Wraxall,  Sir  Nathaniel  William.    Memoirs,  1772-1784.     5  vols.     New 

York  (Scribner),  1884. 

Young,  Arthur.  Travels  during  the  Years  1787,  1788,  and  1789,  under- 
taken more  particularly  with  a  view  of  asceri;aining  the  Cultivation, 
Wealth,  Resources,  and  Natural  Prosperity  of  the  Kingdom  of  France. 
2  vols.  London,  1794.  (The  only  complete  edition  of  this  much-quoted 
book.) 


INDEX. 


Acquits  de  eomptant,  abuse  of,  230. 

Aguesseau,  d',  helps  to  introduce  Roman 
law,  108. 

Aides,  224.     See  Ezcise. 

Aiguillon,  duke  of,  disliked  by  Marie  An- 
toinette, 24  ;  supersedes  Choiseul,  91 ; 
appoints  the  Count  of  Brehan,  96. 

Alembert,  d',  his  version  of  the  story  of 
Montesquieu  and  Cardinal  de  Fleury, 
136  ;  assists  in  editing  the  Encyclopaedia, 
249 ;  retires  from  the  editorship,  252  ; 
his  Preliminary  Discourse,  259;  corre- 
spondence with  Voltaire,  260;  quarrel 
with  Rousseau,  320;  more  widely  read 
on  account  of  the  American  war,  332 ; 
his  reputation  was  European,  385.  See 
Encyclopsedia,  Philosophers. 

Alsace,  how  taxed,  209;  prefers  to  have 
free  trade  with  Germany  rather  than 
with  France,  372  and  n. 

American  colonies,  approached  the  French 
ideal  as  to  equality  of  condition,  120; 
adopted  Montesquieu's  theory  of  the 
division  of  powers,  140  ;  their  attach- 
ment to  it,  150 ;  causes  of  the  aid  ren- 
dered them  by  France,  330 ;  and  its  re- 
sults, 331.     See  United  States. 

American  Indians,  their  place  in  the  works 
of  Rousseau,  299. 

Annuities,  sale  of,  under  Necker,  240. 

Anticipations,  or  floating  debt,  230. 

Argenson,  marquis  of,  hia  account  of  the 
taiUe,  216. 

Aristocracy.     See  Nobility. 

Aristotle,  his  "Politics"  the  model  for 
Montesquieu's  "  Spirit  of  the  Laws," 
141,  143. 

Army,  83 ;  Officers  must  be  noble,  83 ; 
higher  and  lower,  84;  miUtary  schools, 
86;  numbers,  relation  to  soldiers,  87. 
Privates,  recruiting,  88 ;  nom  de  guerre, 
88 ;  uniforms,  89 ;  food,  pay  and  bar- 
racks, 90 ;  general  condition,  91.  Re- 
forms, Clioiseul,  91 ;  Saint  Germain,  92  ; 
the  Viscount  de  Noailles's  flogging,  93. 
Discipline,  95;  the  Count  of  Brehan's 
duels,  90  ;  the  Calotte,  98.  MUitia,  100. 
Reforms  demanded  by  the  cahiers,  371. 
See  MUitia,  Aaty. 

Arouet,  family  name  of  Voltaire,  51 ;  in 
the  quarrel  with  Chabot,  52.  See  Vol- 
taire. 

Artisans,  in  Paris,  1G6 ;  in  the  Provinces, 
176,  179,     See  Guilds. 

Artois,  count  of,  his  speech  to  the  Parlia- 
ment, 15 ;  carries  the  petition  of  the  No- 


tables in  favor  of  the  Protestants  to  the 
King,  45. 

Assemblies.  See  Clergy,  Electoral  Assem- 
blies, Lands  of  Estates,  Notables,  Pro- 
vincial  Assemblies. 

Atheism,  how  far  held  by  Voltaire,  63  ;  of 
Holbach,  269 ;  Holbach  answered  by  Vol- 
taire, 270 ;  atheism  condemned  by  Rous- 
seau, 320. 

Ayen,  duchess  of,  her  family  life,  79. 

Babeau,  M.  Albert,  iv.,  389. 

Bachelors,  proposed  tax  on,  365. 

Bacon,  Francis,  an  originator  of  the  French 
philosophic  movement,  56;  and  of  the 
Encyclopsedia,  244. 

Bailli,  the  lord's  steward,  203 ;  attempt  to 
save  his  jurisdiction,  357  n. 

BaiUy,  M.  V.,  379 ;  his  estimate  of  the  gross 
amount  of  taxation,  207. 

Bankrupts,  the  cahiers  call  for  severity 
against  them,  373. 

Bastille  under  Louis  XVI. ,  117.  See  Letlre 
de  cachet. 

Bayle,  advocates  toleration,  42 ;  a  prede- 
cessor of  the  French  philosophic  move- 
ment, 56. 

Beaumarchais,  his  "  Marriage  of  Figaro," 
the  plot  and  characters,  326;  cutting 
speeches,  327  ;  the  King  opposes  the  act- 
ing of  the  piece,  328;  but  is  overcome,  329. 

Beaumont,  Elie  de,  Arclibishop  of  Paris, 
defends  the  church,  66,  67 ;  condemns 
Emile,  67. 

Beccaria,  his  book  on  crime  and  punish- 
ment, 112. 

Bees  destroyed  for  fear  of  the  taille,  217. 

Begging  orders,  34;  the  caliiers  ask  for 
the  suppression  of  begging,  373. 

Benedictines,  of  Saint  Claude,  demand 
quarterings  for  admission,  33 ;  of  Saint 
Maur,  devoted  to  learning,  31. 

Bergasse  aspires  to  be  a  Lycurgus,  333  n. 

Berry,  Provincial  Assemblies  established 
by  Necker,  211.  See  Provincial  Assem- 
blies. 

Boats,  regulations  concerning  them,  372. 

Boiteau,  M.,  v.,  390. 

Books.     See  Censorship. 

Bolingbroke,  Lord,  a  friend  of  Voltaire,  53. 

"  Boston  "  as  an  imprint  on  French  books, 
47.     Name  of  a  cap,  1(30. 

Boulevards  under  Louis  XVI.  156. 

Boufliers,  duke  of,  throws  his  son  over  the 
parapet,  85. 

Brehan,  count  of,  discipline  by  duels,  96. 


400 


INDEX. 


Brienne,  Lom^nie  de,  establishes  Provin- 
cial assemblies,  212. 

Broc,  Vicomte  de,  v.,  390. 

Broglie,  a  great  family  at  court,  carries  on 
the  secret  diplomacy  of  Louis  XV.,  14; 
the  couut  disrespectful  to  Marie  Antoi- 
nette, 22. 

Bureaucracy  imder  Louis  XVI.,  8. 

Bureaux,  under  the  royal  councils,  6 ;  ex- 
ercise great  powers,  8. 

Burke,  Edmund,  answers  Grenville  con- 
cerning French  taxes,  208  n. 

Cahiers,  of  Provincial  Estates,  211. 

Cahiers  of  the  Estates  General,  342 ;  how 
drawn  up,  343,  347  ;  a  cahier  of  the  Third 
Estate,  345  ;  models,  Abb6  Sieyes,  346 ; 
stormy  electoral  meetings,  general  agree- 
ment of  the  cahiers,  348  ;  they  are  com- 
plaints, 349.  Question  of  one  or  three 
chambers,  350 ;  of  the  royal  power ; 
praise  of  Louis  XVI. ;  responsible  minis- 
ters, 351  ;  meetings  of  the  Estates,  pub- 
licity, 353;  Provincial  Estates,  elective 
village  officers,  the  dismissal  of  old  offi- 
cials, political  and  social  reforms,  355; 
judicial  reforms,  356  ;  property  and  privi- 
lege, 359,  362  ;  game,  360 ;  prescription, 
361 ;  tithes,  taxation,  363  ;  luxuries,  364 ; 
progressive  taxation,  365 ;  finance,  366. 
Questions  interesting  particular  orders, 
366;  the  clergy,  religion  and  hoUdays, 
367  ;  liberty  of  the  press,  education,  ec- 
clesiastical reforms,  368;  Gallican  tone, 
election  of  bishops  and  priests,  369.  No- 
bility and  its  privileges,  370 ;  army  re- 
forms, 371.  Third  Estate,  freedom  from 
regulations,  commerce,  372 ;  bankrupts, 
begging,  373;  post  oflfice,  374;  doctors, 
375.  General  summary  of  the  cahiers, 
375.  See  Electoral  Assemblies,  Estates 
General.  ^ 

Calonne,  dismissed,  17. 

Calotte,  the,  a  military  society,  98. 

Campan,  Mme.,  her  account  of  the  queen's 
toilet,  19;  she  reads  the  "Marriage  of 
Figaro"  to  the  king  and  queen,  328. 
See  Genet. 

Capitaineries,  royal  preserves,  injuries 
done  by  them  to  agriculture,  194 ;  com- 
plaints of  the  cahiers,  360. 

Capitation,  or  poU  tax,  219. 

Caroline,  Queen,  an  edition  of  the  "  Henri- 
ade  "  dedicated  to  her,  53. 

Carrousel,  Place  du,  imder  Louis  XVL, 
155. 

Catharine  II.  of  Russia,  Diderot  taps  her 
knee,  245. 

Catholic  Church,  its  constitution  and  pow- 
er, 40 ;  identified  in  men's  minds  with 
religion,  41 ;  Voltaire  always  its  enemy, 
51 ;  the  strength  of  the  church  in  its 
saints,  68 ;  attacked  in  the  "  Persian  Let- 
ters," 128  ;  Rousseau  considers  it  incom- 
patible with  freedom  in  the  state,  299 ; 
its  maintenance  demanded  by  the  ca- 
hiers, 367  ;  France  Catholic,  382.  See 
Clergy,  Pope,  Protestants,  Toleration. 

Cens,  a  feudal  rent,  194. 

Censorship  of  the  press,  46 ;  its  effect  on 
style,  47  ;  Voltaire's  "English  Letters," 


54,  60 ;  books  condemned  by  the  Parlia- 
ment, 115  ;  Montesquieu's  "Persian  Let- 
ters," 135;  Diderot's  "Letter  on  the 
Blind,"  249;  the  "  Encyclopaedia,"  250  ; 
Helvetius's  "  de  I'Esprit,"  251  ;  censor- 
ship in  the  cahiers,  368.  See  Males- 
herbes. 

Chabot,  M.  de,  his  quarrel  with  Voltaire, 
52. 

Chambers'  Cyclopaedia  a  progenitor  of  the 
Encyclopaedia,  244. 

Champart,  a  feudal  rent,  194. 

Champs  Elys^es  under  Louis  XVL,  156. 

Chartres,  duke  of,  builds  the  porticoes  of 
the  Palais  Royal,  and  encourages  clubs, 
332. 

Chastellux,  Chevalier  de,  his  opinion  con- 
cerning taxation  in  France,  208 ;  accom- 
panies Rochambeau  to  America,  his  book 
"Of  Public  Felicity,"  material  comfort 
the  test  of  public  happiness,  271 ;  the 
modern  ideal  of  progress,  272. 

ChStelet,  Mme.  du,  procures  the  release  of 
Diderot  from  Viucennes,  249. 

Chaudon,  defends  the  church,  66 ;  his  dic- 
tionary, 68. 

Ch^rest,  M.  Aim6,  v.  390. 

Chinese,  the,  admired  at  a  distance  by  Vol- 
taire, 299. 

Choiseul,  duke  of,  favored  by  Marie  An- 
toinette, an  able  minister,  24 ;  remedies 
abuses  in  the  army,  superseded  by  d'Ai- 
guillon,  91. 

Church  of  France.  See  Catholic  Church, 
Clergy. 

Clergy,  numbers  and  property,  25 ;  tithes ; 
"  Clergy  of  France  "  and  "  Foreign  Cler- 
gy," 26;  assemblies;  immunities  and 
powers,  27,  37,  40 ;  free  gift ;  demands 
the  suppression  of  the  works  of  Voltaire  ; 
debt,  28 ;  distribution  of  income ;  bish- 
ops, 29 ;  abbots,  30 ;  convents,  31 ;  noble 
chapters,  33  ;  secular  clergy,  parish 
priests,  35  ;  decimes,  36  ;  propositions  of 
1682,  37  ;  the  clergy  and  the  Protestants, 
43  ;  condemnation  of  books,  46  ;  attacks 
of  the  Philosophers,  48  ;  Voltaire  always 
an  enemy  of  the  church,  51 ;  he  attacks 
the  clergy  in  the  "  English  Letters,"  54 ; 
Montesquieu  in  the  "Persian  Letters," 
65,  128  ;  replies  of  the  clergy,  66  ;  the 
strength  of  a  church  is  in  its  saints,  68  ; 
quarrel  of  the  clergy  with  the  Parlia- 
ment, 104  ;  the  clergy  generally  appoints 
the  schoolmaster  in  towns,  183;  super- 
vises him  in  the  country,  204  ;  how  rep- 
resented in  Provincial  Estates,  210 ;  and 
in  Provincial  Assemblies,  211  ;  elections 
to  the  Estates  General,  preponderance  of 
the  lower  clergy,  343;  divided  on  the 
question  of  one  or  three  chambers,  350  ; 
the  cahiers  of  the  clergy  ask  for  a  redis- 
tribution of  church  property,  362 ;  gen- 
erally agree  to  equal  taxation,  363; 
maintain  Catholic  supremacy;  Simdays 
and  hoUdays,  367  ;  oppose  liberty  of  the 
press,  ask  for  education,  ecclesiastical 
reforms,  368  ;  Gallican  tone,  election  of 
bishops  and  priests,  309 ;  usury,  372 ;  the 
Third  Estate  and  tithe,  363 ;  the  Third 
Estate  asks  for  the  suppression  of  men- 


INDEX. 


401 


dicant  orders,  374.    See  Catholic  Church, 
Censorship,  Protestants,  3fonks. 

Clothes.     See  Costume. 

Clubs  in  Paris,  332. 

Coip^ny,  duke  of,  his  scene  with  the  King, 
15. 

Collectors  of  taxes,  elected  by  village  com- 
munities, their  work  and  their  pay,  203, 
215.     See  Tazes. 

Commerce,  external  and  internal ;  with 
England  long  prohibited,  smuggling, 
treaty  of  1786,  225 ;  octrois,  220 ;  free 
trade  demanded  by  the  Physiocrats,  233 ; 
commerce  in  the  caliiers,  372.  See  Oc- 
trois. 

Committimus,  writ  of,  109  ;  the  cahiers  de- 
mand its  abolition,  356. 

Common  lands,  large  tracts  still  held  in 
the  18th  century,  201. 

Commons.     See  Third  Estate. 

Concordat,  the,  its  provisions,  27. 

Condillac  amplifies  the  teachings  of  Locke, 
243. 

Condorcet,  his  criticism  of  Montesquieu, 
152 ;  he  contributes  to  the  Encyclopaedia, 
250  ;  his  statement  of  its  purpose,  255. 

Confessions  in  criminal  law.  111  n. 

Consuls,  town  officers,  181.     See  Syndic. 

Consulats,  commercial  courts,  356. 

Controller  General  of  the  Finances,  sits  in 
the  councils,  6;  his  contract  with  the 
Farmers  General,  220 ;  Turgot,  236 ;  his 
successor,  239.     See  Necker. 

Convents,  their  property  and  rules,  31. 
See  Monks. 

Corvee,  described,  226 ;  abolished  by  Tur- 
got, 227,  237.     See  Feudal  tenures. 

Costume,  in  Paris,  159  ;  in  provincial  towns, 
177  ;  of  peasants,  200 ;  uniforms,  89, 

Councils,  royal,  their  composition  and 
functions,  6;  legislation  by  them,  104; 
Council  of  Commerce,  6 ;  of  Despatches, 
6,  8 ;  of  Finance,  6  ;  of  Parties,  or  Privy 
Comicil,  6  ;  of  State,  6,  7  ;  it  suppresses 
the  Encyclopsedia,  250,  252. 

Counsel,  in  criminal  cases  in  France,  110 ; 
in  England,  111  n. 

Country,  the,  general  description,  186  ; 
prosperity  slowly  increasing,  190.  See 
Farms,  Land,  Metayers,  Game,  Roads, 
Villages,  Feudal  tenures.  Peasant. 

Court.     See  Courtiers,  Courts  of  Law. 

Courtiers,  form  a  ring,  11 ;  composition  of 
the  Court,  13  ;  great  families,  Sunday  la- 
dies, 14 ;  offices  at  court,  16 ;  etiquette, 
17  ;  court  of  Marie  Antomette,  21  ;  eccle- 
siastical courtiers,  30 ;  noblesse  de  cour, 
manners  and  morals,  72  ;  courtier  colo- 
nels, 84,  371  ;  share  of  the  court  and  of 
the  Parliament  in  making  laws,  104  ;  lux- 
urious life  of  the  courtiers,  162 ;  the 
court  conspires  against  Necker,  242 ;  is 
defied  by  the  Parliament.  330  ;  hated  and 
dreaded  by  the  nation,  376  ;  courtiers  in- 
terested in  abuses,  are  the  public  of  mon- 
archs,  378. 
Courts  of  Law,  103;  Parliaments,  103; 
lower  courts,  108  and  n.;  comparison  of 
English  and  Continental  systems,  cor- 
ruption, writ  of  committimus,  109 ;  re- 
forms demanded  in  the  cahiers,  356.  See 
Lmw,  Parliament  of  Paris. 


Criminal  Law.     See  Latv,  Torture. 
Croupiers  on  the  General  Farm,  221. 

Deane,  Silas,  his  letters  opened  in  the  post- 
office,  374. 

Decimes,  36  and  n. 

Deficit,  under  Louis  XVI. ,  238 ;  the  occa- 
sion, not  the  cause  of  the  Revolution, 
386.     See  Finance. 

Democracy,  in  the  18th  century,  1  ;  Montes- 
quieu, on  its  danger,  139  ;  on  its  motive 
principle,  which  is  virtue,  144 ;  on  the 
importance  to  it  of  conservatism,  146; 
the  conditions  on  which  democracy  rests, 
and  how  far  they  were  fulfilled  in  old 
France,  379.  See  Equality,  Liberty, 
Rousseau. 

Desjardins,  M.,  vi.,  391. 

Desnoiresterres,  M. ,  vi.,  391. 

Diderot,  Denis,  ridiculed  by  Palissot,  67 ; 
imprisoned  by  a  lettre  de  cachet,  117;  ed- 
itor of  the  Encyclopfrdia,  his  history  and 
character,  244 ;  anecdotes  of  a  libel  and 
of  the  formica  leo,  246;  verboseness,  the 
"  Letter  on  the  Blind,"  247  ;  Diderot  a 
great  liar,  248,  274,  282  n.  ;  imprison- 
ment, publication  of  the  Encyclopaedia, 
249 ;  Diderot  interested  in  external  mat- 
ters, 275  ;  his  connection  with  Rousseau's 
"  First  Discourse,"  281 ;  with  his  "  Sec- 
ond Discourse,"  286  n.;  quarrel  with 
Rousseau,  320  ;  his  reputation  was  Euro- 
pean, o85.     See  Encyclopaedia. 

Director  General  of  the  Finances.  See 
Keeker. 

Dizieme,  equal  to  two  ringtiemes,  218  n. 

Doctors,  surgeons  in  Paris  better  taught 
than  physicians,  168 ;  of  Marseilles  in 
morocco  and  masks,  183  ;  the  cahiers  ask 
for  the  suppression  of  quacks,  375.  See 
Hospitals. 

Dogs,  petition  in  a  cahier  that  they  be  not 
obliged  to  carry  weights,  346  ;  proposed 
tax  on  them,  364. 

Dol,  bishop  of,  warns  Louis  XVI.  not  to 
grant  a  civil  status  to  Protestants,  45. 

Domat,  influential  in  introducing  Roman 
Law,  108. 

Don  gratuit,  or  tax  of  the  clergy,  28. 

Du  Marsais,  the  grammarian,  gets  into 
trouble,  170. 

Dupont  de  Nemours  in  danger  of  being 
thrown  out  of  a  window,  348. 

Duties.    See  Commerce,  Taxes. 

Echevins,  town  officers,  181.     See  Syndic. 

Edit  de  la  Paulette,  231. 

Education  of  middle  class  better  than  of 
nobles,  184 ;  Rousseau  in  the  "  First  Dis- 
course," 284  ;  in  "  Emile,"  307  ;  the 
clergy  in  tlie  cahiers,  368.  See  School- 
masters, Schools. 

Election,  a  district,  10.  See  Lands  of 
Election. 

Electoral  Assemblies,  for  the  Estates  Gen- 
eral, of  tlie  clergy,  343 ;  of  the  nobility 
and  of  the  Tliinl  Estate,  344  ;  an  assem- 
bly captured,  347 ;  stormy,  348.  See 
Cahiers,  Estates  General. 

Enryclopa'dia,  the,  its  origin,  244  ;  Diderot, 
244 ;  d'Alembert,  249 ;  other  contribu- 
tors;   vicissitudes  of    publication,   250; 


402 


INDEX. 


bibliographical  note,  254  n.;  nature  of 
the  book,  254,  258;  anecdote  of  Louis 
XV.,  255  -,  philosophy,  259  ;  uneven  exe- 
cution, 260  ;  Rousseau's  article  on  Polit- 
ical Economy,  292.  See  Alembert,  Dide- 
rot, Jaucourt,  Montesquieu,  Voltaire, 
Turgot,  Haller,  Condorcet.  Helvetius. 

Encyclopedie  methodique,  its  didactic  ten- 
dency, 323  n. 

England,  the  most  free  country,  according 
to  Montesquieu,  137 ;  one  of  his  models 
for  a  monarchy,  and  for  a  republic,  145 
and  n. ;  adoption  of  English  forms  of 
government  in  the  19th  century,  150  ; 
commerce  vt^ith  France  prohibited  ;  treaty 
of  1786,  225;  war  with  American  colo- 
nies, 330  ;  English  ideas  in  France  in  18th 
century,  332;  constitution  attacked  by 
Rousseau,  296  ;  and  by  Sieyes,  338. 

E7iquetes,  cour  des,  a  department  of  the 
Parliament,  103  n. 

Equality,  of  many  kinds,  120 ;  equality  and 
liberty  naturally  opposed  to  each  other, 
125 ;  difference  of  equality  in  England 
and  Holland,  according  to  Montesquieu, 
137  ;  Rousseau  on  inequality,  285 ;  equal- 
ity, how  desired  in  France,  381.  See  Lib- 
erty. 

Espr^sm^nil,  d',  protests  against  granting 
civil  status  to  Protestants,  46 ;  member 
of  a  club,  333  n. 

Estaing,  count  of,  no  sailor,  101. 

Estates.     See  Lands  of  Estates. 

Estates  General,  question  of  one  or  three 
chambers,  in  the  pamphlets,  334,  337  ;  in 
the  cahiers,  350 ;  in  1789,  a  constitutional 
convention,  342 ;  composition  and  elec- 
tions, 343  ;  what  they  were  to  be  and  to 
do,  349  ;  meetings,  publicity,  353  ;  influ- 
enced by  their  galleries,  354 ;  to  make 
special  appropriations,  366 ;  want  of  ex- 
perience of  the  members,  their  qualifica- 
tions and  difficulties,  387.  See  Cahiers, 
Electoral  Assemblies. 

Etiquette,  its  uses,  17  ;  that  of  the  French 
court  antiquated,  18 ;  Marie  Antoinette, 
her  chemise,  19 ;  her  attempts  to  evade 
etiquette,  20,  22. 

Excise  on  -mne  and  cider,  224 ;  in  the  ca- 
hiers, 364.    See  Taxes. 

Family,  the  tie  close  in  France,  but  loosen- 
ing, 76 ;  among  the  country  nobles,  82 ; 
command  of  a  company  almost  heredi- 
tary, 87 ;  judicial  place  inherited,  105 ; 
request  of  the  cahiers  that  the  family  of 
a  criminal  be  not  disgraced,  357.  See 
Marriage,  Married  women,  Morals. 

Farmers  General,  their  financial  operations, 
220 ;  their  social  position,  221.  See  Fi- 
nanciers. 

Farms,  small,  large,  and  of  moderate  size, 
191.  See  Country,  Land,  Metayers,  Vil- 
lages, Feudal  tenures.  Peasant. 

Fatalism  of  the  Philosophers,  49 ;  of  Hol- 
bach,  268.     See  Philosophers. 

F^nelon  advocates  toleration,  42,  43. 

Feudal  tenures,  described,  194 ;  their  ori- 
gin, 196  ;  in  the  cahiers,  359.  See  Cens, 
Champart,  Lods  et  rentes. 

Finance,  anticipations,  or  floating  debt, 
acquits  de  comptant,  230 ;  sale  of  public 


offices,  Panlette,  231 ;  the  Physiocrats, 
Quesnay,  233 ;  Gournay,  234 ;  Turgot, 
235  ;  the  deficit,  238  ;  Necker,  239  ;  lot- 
teries and  annuities,  240  ;  compte  rendu, 
241 ;  finance  in  the  cahiers,  366  ;  finance 
the  occasion,  not  the  cause,  of  the  Rev- 
olution, 386.  See  Commerce,  Taxes, 
Necker,  Tuigot. 

Financiers,  regarded  with  jealousy,  164* 
See  Farmers  General. 

Flanders,  how  taxed,  209 ;  anomalous  posi- 
tion of  Walloon  de  Flanders,  210  n. 

Fleury,  Cardinal,  and  Montesquieu's  elec- 
tion to  the  Academy,  135. 

Flogging  in  the  army,  92 ;  anecdote,  93 ;  in 
the  navy,  102. 

Food,  of  soldiers,  90 ;  sailors,  102  ;  in  Paris, 
162  ;  of  journeymen  in  provincial  towns, 
179 ;  of  peasants,  200. 

Foundlings  in  Paris,  169.     See  Hospitals. 

Francis  I.,  King  of  France,  makes  the  Con- 
cordat, 27. 

Franklin,  Benjamin,  his  letters  opened  in 
the  maU,  374. 

Frederick  the  Great,  as  a  commander,  86  ; 
one  half  his  soldiers  are  foreigners,  90 ; 
composes  his  Academy  of  Frenchmen, 
386. 

Free-trade.    See  Commerce,  Smuggling. 

French  Guards,  regiment  of,  loses  its  disci- 
pline, 100. 

Fr^ron,  defends  the  church,  66. 

Friendship,  close  among  the  nobility,  74. 

Furniture,  in  noblemen's  country  houses, 
193 ;  in  peasants'  cottages,  199. 

Gabelle,  or  salt-tax,  222. 

Galleys  at  Toulon,  last  prisoner  for  Protes- 
tantism released,  43;  condition  of  the 
galleys,  110. 

Gallican  Church.  See  Catholic  Church, 
Clergy. 

Game,  the  French  idea  of  sport,  78  ;  abun- 
dance of  game,  193  ;  hated  by  the  peas- 
ants, 194;  complaints  of  the  cahiers, 
360. 

Gay,  associates  with  "Voltaire,  53. 

Garrison,  to  collect  the  poll-tax,  219. 

GenSralitS,  a  district,  8,  208.  See  Lands 
of  Election. 

Genet,  Mile.,  snubbed  by  Louis  XV.,  76. 
See  Mme.  Campan. 

Geneva,  books  printed  there  for  the  French 
market,  46  ;  an  article  on  Geneva  in  the 
Encyclopaedia  makes  trouble,  254  n.  ;  the 
model  for  Rousseau's  Social  Compact, 
299  n. 

Gomel,  M.  Charles,  v.,  392. 

Gournay,  de,  and  his  doctrines,  234. 

Governor  of  a  province,  10. 

Grand^  Chambre,  a  department  of  the 
Parliament,  103  n. 

Grenville,  George,  his  comparison  of  taxa- 
tion in  France  and  in  England,  208. 

Grimm,  tells  the  story  of  Diderot  and  Le 
Breton,  252  ;  quarrel  with  Rousseau, 
320. 

Grotius,  a  predecessor  of  the  French  Philo- 
sophic movement,  56. 

Gut5mt5n6e,  Princess  of,  her  house  called  « 
gambling  hell,  22. 

Guibert,  count  of,  hated  in  the  army,  100. 


INDEX. 


403 


Guilds,  described,  179 ;  abolished  by  Tur- 
got,  237  ;  reestablished,  237  u. 

Haller,  contributes  to  the  Encyclopaedia, 
250. 

H;iute  Guyenne,  Provincial  Assemblies  es- 
tablished by  Necker,  211. 

Hedonism,  a  doctrine  of  the  Philosophers, 
49.     See  Utility,  Philosophers. 

Helvetius,  his  book  "  de  I'Esprit,"  com- 
promises the  Encyclopa'dists,  251  ;  char- 
acter of  the  man  and  of  the  book,  the 
doctrine  of  utility,  2G1.     See  Utility. 

Henry  IV.  the  model  of  Louis  XVI.,  12. 

Hobbes,  influences  the  French  Philosophic 
movement,  56. 

Holbach,  Baron,  his  character,  263  ;  the 
"System  of  Nature,"  materialism,  264  ; 
government,  265  ;  happiness,  267  ;  reli- 
gion a  delusion,  utility,  fatalism,  268 ; 
atheism,  269  ;  alarm  of  the  Philosophers, 
the  answer  to  Holbach,  270. 

Holidays,  frequent,  179,  205;  in  the  ca- 
hiers,  367. 

Holland,  books  printed  there  for  the  French 
market,  46  ;  torture  obsolete,  113  ;  com- 
pared with  England  by  Montesquieu, 
137  ;  and  with  France,  385. 

Hooker,  Richard,  influences  the  French 
Philosophers,  56. 

Horn,  M.,  v.,  392. 

Hospitals,  in  Paris,  168  ;  in  provincial 
towns,  182.     See  Doctors. 

Houses,  in  Paris,  157  ;  in  provincial  towns, 
176 ;  in  the  country,  of  nobles,  192 ;  of 
peasants,  199. 

Howard,  John,  story  of  tortured  men 
sweating  blood,  111  n. ;  his  book  on  the 
"State  of  the  Prisons,"  112;  he  consid- 
ers the  HStel  Dieu  a  disgrace  to  Paris, 
168. 

Humanity,  an  ideal  in  France,  382 ;  its 
growth  since  1789,  385.  See  Hospitals, 
Beccaria,  Howard.^ 

Indians.     See  American  Indians. 

Inequality,  Rousseau's  discourse  on,  285; 
Voltaire's  answer,  291.  See  Equality, 
Philosophers. 

Intendants,  their  functions,  8  ;  maitres  des 
requctes  and  members  of  the  Privy  Coun- 
cil, 9 ;  supervision  of  Provincial  Assem- 
blies, 211. 

Itch,  common  early  in  the  18th  century, 
disappears,  182. 

Jansenist  quarrel,  38  ;    its  effect    on  the 

church,  68  ;  its  nature,  104. 
Jaucourt,  Chev.  de,  aseists  in  editing  the 

Eiicyclopa-dia,  250. 
Jefferson,  Thomas,   his  opinion   of   Paris, 

157. 
Jesuits,  their  quarrel  with  the  Jansenists, 

38  ;  its  nature,  104  ;  they  try  to  continue 

the  Encyclopaidia,  251. 
Journeymen.     See  Artisans. 

King,  the,  his  powers,  4 ;  he  sits  in  the 
councils,  5  ;  the  fountain  of  justice,  7 ; 
his  powers  in  the  cahiers,  349,  351  ;  to 
be  maintained  in  suitable  splendor,  366  ; 
successes  and  failures  of   the   kings  of 


France,  377  ;  their  inability  to  get  infor- 
mation, 378.     See  Louis  X.,  Francis  I., 
Louis  A'lV.,  Louis  XV.,  Louis  XVI. 
Knights  of  Malta,  33. 

La  Barre,  his  crime  and  punishment,  114. 

La  Bruyere,  description  of  the  French 
peasant,  186  ;  comment  on  it,  187. 

Lafayette,  marquis  of,  connected  with  the 
family  of  Noailles,  14  ;  would  begin  his- 
tory with  1787,  119 ;  hopeful  tone  of  his 
letters,  323  n.  ;  member  of  a  club,  333  n. 

Lamballe,  faction  rapacious,  17. 

Land,  how  divided,  191 ;  price,  rent  and 
product,  according  to  A.  Young,  192  n. 
See  Farms,  Metayers,  Villages,  Peasant. 

Lands  of  Election,  what  they  were  and 
how  taxed,  208. 

Lands  of  Estates,  what  they  were  and  how 
taxed,  209 ;  Estates,  210.  See  Provin- 
cial Estates. 

La  Trappe,  account  of  the  monastery,  34. 

Lauzun,  duke  of,  fond  of  adventure,  85; 
speaks  respectfully  of  American  women, 
332. 

Laval,  viscount  of,  manages  the  election  at 
Chaumont,  346. 

Lavergne,  M.  L6once  de,  v.,  vi.  392. 

Law,  method  of  passing  a  law,  104 ;  vari- 
ety of  laws  and  jurisdictions,  107,  384 ; 
the  civil  and  the  customary  law,  107 ; 
comparison  of  Continental  and  Anglo- 
Saxon  systems,  109 ;  criminal  law,  tor- 
ture, death  penalty,  the  wheel,  111 ;  Bec- 
caria, 112 ;  reforms,  113  ;  lettres  de  ca- 
chet, police,  116  ;  reforms  demanded  by 
the  cahiers,  356.  See  Lawyers,  Parlia- 
ment of  Paris,  Parliaments,  Torture. 

Lawyers,  in  Paris,  173 ;  not  incompetent, 
384.     See  Law,  Parliament  of  Paris. 

Le  Breton,  the  pubhsher,  engages  Diderot 
to  edit  the  Encyclopaedia,  244 ;  his  trick, 
252.     See  Encyclopaidia. 

Lecouvreur,  Mile.,  present  at  the  quarrel 
between  Voltaire  and  Chabot,  52. 

Lefranc  de  Pompignan,  pastoral  letter  on 
toleration,  44  ;  a  defender  of  the  church, 
66. 

Legislator,  the,  124  ;  in  the  Encyclopaedia, 
259  ;  aspirations  of  Bergasse,  333  n. 

Leprosy,  disappeared  from  France,  183. 

Letters,  the  cahiers  ask  that  they  be  not 
opened  in  the  mail,  374. 

Lettres  de  cachet,  described,  116,  in  the  ca- 
hiers, 357. 

Leo  X.,  pope,  makes  the  Concordat,  27. 

Liberty,  not  a  simple  idea,  political  rights, 
122 ;  absence  of  interference,  123 ;  lib- 
erty and  equality  naturally  opposed  to 
each  other,  125  ;  Montesquieu  on  liberty 
in  England,  137;  his  definition,  148; 
Rousseau,  the  Social  Compact,  294  ;  lib- 
erty of  agriculture  and  of  commerce, 
233 ;  of  the  press  in  the  cahiers,  368 ; 
how  desired,  381.  See  Equality,  Ine- 
quality, Free-trade,  Physiocrats,  Censor- 
ship. 

Licentiousness,  in  Paris,  72,  79 ;  regarded 
by  the  Philosophers  as  an  artificial  wrong, 
130.     See  Morals. 

Locke,  John,  advocates  toleration,  42,  43; 
the  fountain-head  of  the  French  Philo* 


404 


INDEX. 


sophic  movement,  56 ;  his  doctrines,  57  ; 
Voltaire  ou  Locke,  60 ;  authority  of 
Locke's  teachmgrs  in  France,  2-43 ;  the 
Encyclopaedia,  259  ;  views  his  own  mind 
objectively,  275. 

Lods  et  rentes,  a  feudal  due,  195. 

Lomt^nie,  M.  de,  vi.,  393. 

Lorraine,  said  to  have  lost  prosperity,  191 ; 
how  taxed,  209 ;  prefers  to  have  free 
trade  with  Germany  rather  than  with 
France,  372. 

Lotteries,  how  drawn  in  Paris,  173 ;  state 
lotteries,  how  managed,  240  ;  cahiers  ask 
for  the  suppression  of  lotteries,  375. 

Louis  X.,  sells  public  offices,  231. 

Louis  XIV. ,  his  absolute  power,  40  ;  law 
for  compulsory  education,  183 ;  poverty 
of  France  in  his  latter  years,  190 ;  sale 
of  offices,  232. 

Louis  XV.,  led  by  his  mistresses,  13 ;  his 
secret  diplomacy,  14 ;  rudeness  to  Mile. 
Genet,  76  ;  refuses  to  commute  La  Bar- 
re's  sentence,  114  ;  statue,  156 ;  kneels 
to  a  religious  procession,  172 ;  recuper- 
ation of  France  under  his  reign,  190 ; 
anecdote  concerning  him  and  the  En- 
cyclopaedia, 255;  effects  of  his  medioc- 
rity, 386. 

Louis  XVI. ,  his  accession,  position,  4 ; 
character,  12 ;  mumbles  the  coronation 
oath,  44  ;  an  awkward  man,  76  ;  place  of 
his  execution,  156  ;  distrust  of  Necker, 
165 ;  promises  Turgot  not  to  issue  acquits 
de  comptant,  231 ;  weakness  in  dealing 
with  the  deficit,  238,  242;  pubUc  opin- 
ion, 324  ;  attempt  to  suppress  the  "  Mar- 
riage of  Figaro,"  328 ;  dragged  into  the 
American  war,  331 ;  attacked  in  a  pam- 
phlet, 335 ;  fails  to  arrange  the  composi- 
tion of  the  Estates  General,  350 ;  praised 
in  the  cahiers,  351 ;  threatened  in  a  ca- 
hier,  351  n, ;  requested  to  wear  French 
stuffs,  373  ;  his  want  of  opportunity  of 
knowing  the  true  condition  of  France, 
378  ;  effects  of  his  incompetence,  386, 

Louvre,  under  Louis  XVI. ,  155. 

Lucay,  comte  de,  vi. ,  393. 

Luxembourg,  palace  and  garden,  155. 

Luxuries,  of  the  rich  in  Paris,  162  ;  cahiers 
demand  the  taxation  of  luxuries,  364. 

Macchiavelli,  comparison  of  his  "  Dis- 
courses "  with  Montesquieu's  "  Great- 
ness of  the  Romans,"  138. 

Macaulay,  Lord,  quoted  ("  liars  by  a  double 
right"),  144. 

Madame.     See  Provence,  Countess  of. 

Maitres  des  requetes,  sit  in  the  Privy  Coun- 
cil, 6;  the  intendants  chosen  among 
them,  9. 

Malesherbes,  does  not  remain  long  in  office, 
17 ;  opposed  by  Marie  Antoinette,  24 ; 
conduct  as  censor,  47  ;  dismissed  from 
the  council,  17,  238. 

Mansfield,  Lord,  enlarges  the  common  law 
of  England,  108. 

Manufactures.     See  Guilds. 

Maria  Theresa,  Empress,  fears  too  much 
simplicity,  16  ;  never  treated  without  re- 
spect, 22. 

Marie  Antoinette,  the  Polignacs  her  favor- 
ites, injured  by  a  Rohan,  14 ;  her  first 


baby  and  its  attendants,  16,  19  n.  ;  eti- 
quette, 17  ;  her  chemise,  19  ;  her  charac- 
ter and  influence,  20 ;  place  of  her  exe- 
cution, 156;  hears  the  "Marriage  of 
Figaro,"  328 ;  requested  to  wear  French 
stuffs,  373.     See  Louis  XVI.,  Etiquette. 

Marriage,  of  country  nobles,  82  ;  in  Paris, 
165  ;  in  provincial  towns,  178.  See  Fam- 
ily, Married  ivomen.  Morals. 

Married  women,  their  business  education, 
165,  182.     See  Marriage. 

Materialism,  a  doctrine  of  the  Philosophic 
school,  49  ;  Locke  inclines  to  it,  59 ;  Vol- 
taire, 63;  Holbach,  264.  See  Philoso- 
phers. 

Marmontel  at  school,  184. 

Marseilles,  doctors  with  masks,  183. 

Maurepas,  his  selfishness,  his  influence,  17  ; 
advises  Louis  XVI.  not  to  change  the 
coronation  oath,  44  ;  quarrel  with  Necker, 
241 ;  mentions  the  "  Marriage  of  Figa- 
ro," 328. 

Maurice  de  Saxe,  commands  at  Raucoux, 
85  ;  as  a  commander,  86. 

Medicine.     See  Doctors,  Hospitals. 

Memoires  de  Trt^voux,  defend  the  church, 
66. 

Metayers,  farmers,  70,  192. 

Military  schools  described,  86. 

Militia,  numbers,  composition,  and  term  of 
service,  100 ;  drawing  for  the  militia, 
201.     See  Army. 

Ministers,  their  seats  in  the  council,  6  ; 
the  cahiers  demand  that  they  be  respon- 
sible ;  what  this  means,  351. 

Mirabaud,  secretary  of  the  Academy,  his 
name  assumed  by  Holbach,  262  n. 

Mirabeau  the  elder,  kneels  before  his 
mother,  82 ;  his  opinion  of  peasant  life, 
187. 

Mirabeau  the  younger,  confined  by  a  lettre 
de  cachet,  117. 

Molinist.     See  Jesuit. 

Monarchy.     See  King. 

Monks,  their  property  and  rules,  31 ;  policy 
of  allowing  them,  32  ;  hated  by  Voltaire 
and  the  Philosophers,  32,  62,  263. 

Montaigne,  a  predecessor  of  tlie  French 
Philosophic  movement,  56 ;  opposes  tor- 
ture, 112. 

Montesquieu,  on  toleration,  41 ;  may  rival 
Voltaire  in  influence,  51 ;  remarks  on 
condition  of  the  clergy,  65;  opposed  to 
torture,  112 ;  failed  to  grasp  the  continu- 
ity of  history,  approves  of  equality  of 
condition,  120 ;  the  work  of  Montesquieu, 
his  character,  126;  the  '■'■Persian  Let- 
ters,'^ 65,  127  ;  the  church,  128 ;  licen- 
tiousness, 130  ;  the  monarchy,  132  ;  re- 
publics, 133 ;  sacredness  of  laws ;  large 
assemblies,  134  ;  origin  of  society  ;  Mon- 
tesquieu and  the  Academy,  135 ;  in  Eng- 
land, 136  ;  liberty  and  equality  in  Eng- 
land, Holland,  and  Venice,  137 ;  the 
'■'■Greatness  and  Decadence  of  the  Ro- 
mans ;  "  Montesquieu  compared  with 
Macchiavelli,  138 ;  danger  to  republics ; 
danger  of  change,  139 ;  the  division  of 
powers,  140,  148  ;  the  Spirit  of  the  Laws, 
141 ;  relation  of  laws  to  circumstances, 
142 ;  Montesquieu  sometimes  misled  by 
I      ignorance  of  foreign  customs ;  the  nature 


INDEX. 


405 


and  principle  of  povemment,  144  ;  liberty 
and  the  division  of  powers,  148  ;  relijjion, 
151 ;  moderation,  uniformity,  criticism 
by  Condorcet,  152 ;  ditl'erence  between 
Montesquieu  and  the  Philosophers,  153  ; 
Montesquieu  defends  the  sale  of  offices, 
232  n.;  contributes  to  the  Encyclopfedia, 
250  ;  more  widely  read,  332^  See  Amer- 
ican Colonies,  England,  United  States, 
Venice. 

Morals,  of  Louis  XVI.,  12;  of  Marie  Antoi- 
nette, 22  ;  of  the  bishops  and  clergy,  30  ; 
of  French  and  English  priests,  according 
to  Voltaire,  54;  of  the  nobility,  72,  79, 
81 ;  independence  and  honesty  of  judges, 
lOG;  sexual  morals  considered  couven- 
tional,  130  ;  relation  of  laws  to  morals, 
according  to  Montesquieu,  142;  morals 
of  the  middle  classes,  IGG  ;  in  the  Ency- 
clopaedia, 255 ;  reduced  to  utility,  by  Hel- 
vetius,  2G2  ;  dependent  on  government, 
Holbach,  2GG;  spoiled  by  civilization, 
Rousseau,  282 ;  American  morals  ad- 
mired, 332;  the  clergy  in  the  cahiers, 
3G7  ;  the  government  and  the  country  on 
moral  questions,  380.  See  Ilumaiiity, 
Licentiousness. 

Morley,  Rt.  Hon.  John,  his  books  on  the 
French  Philosophers,  v.,  394. 

National  Assembly,  proposed  by  Sieyes, 
340 ;  fate  of  the  constitution  made  by  it, 
354;  inexperience  of  its  members,  387. 
See  Estates  General. 

Navy,  its  composition,  officers,  101 ;  naval 
architects  excellent,  101,  384;  men,  flog- 
ging, administration,  102. 

Necker,  does  not  remain  long  in  office,  17  ; 
opposed  by  Marie  Antoinette,  24  ;  a  Pro- 
testant but  important,  44;  popularity, 
1G5;  estimate  of  taxation,  207,  227  ;  com- 
parison of  taxes  in  France  and  England, 
208;  his  Provincial  Assemblies,  211  ;  his 
book  on  the  Administration  of  the  Finan- 
ces, 212 ;  story  about  bees,  217  ;  contract 
with  the  Farmers  General,  221 ;  figures 
concerning  taxation,  227  ;  Director  Gen- 
eral of  the  Finances,  character  and  finan- 
cial devices,  239 ;  compte  rendu,  241 ; 
fall,  242 ;  fails  to  determine  the  compo- 
sition of  the  Estates  General,  350 ;  blessed 
in  the  cahiers,  351  n. 

Newton,  Sir  Isaac,  influences  the  French 
Philosophic  movement,  5G. 

Noailles,  a  great  family  at  court,  14 ;  vis- 
count of,  fond  of  adventure,  85 ;  insists 
on  being  flogged,  93. 

Nobility,  bishops  generally  noblemen,  20 ; 
numbers  and  property  of  the  nobles,  70 ; 
privileges  and  distinctions;  nobility  easily 
acquired  ;  of  tlie  sword  and  of  tl»e  gown, 
71 ,  of  the  court,  manners,  72,  7G  ;  friend- 
ship, 74  ;  leisure,  78 ;  vice  and  virtue,  79  ; 
country  nobles,  81  ;  a  military  class,  83 ; 
of  the  gown,  103;  the  nobility  hated 
chiefly  on  account  of  its  privileges,  119  ; 
luxurious  life,  1G2 ;  how  represented  in 
Provincial  E.'^t!iteg,210;  and  in  Provincial 
Assemblies,  211 ;  exemption  from  taxa- 
tion, 213, 228  ;  the  nobility  and  the  middle 
class  approach  each  other  socially  ;  influ- 
ence of  the  Philosophers,  S22 ;    nobility 


attacked  by  Sieyes,  33G  ;  the  feeling  not 
shared  by  the  bulk  of  tlie  nation,  340 ; 
elections  to  the  Estates  General,  predomi- 
nance of  the  poorer  nobility,  344  ;  in  the 
cahiers,  question  of  one  or  three  cham- 
bers, 350  ;  the  nobility  urgent  for  political 
reforms,  35G  ;  respective  attitude  of  the 
nobiUty  and  the  Third  Estate,  370. ;  army 
reform,  371  ;  the  nobility  not  a  governing 
class,  but  contains  most  men  trained  to 
govern,  378.  See  Army,  Parliament  oj 
Paris. 

Noni  de  guerre  of  private  soldiers,  88. 

Nonnotte,  a  defender  of  the  church,  66  5 
his  dictionary,  68. 

Normandy,  rich  peasants,  201 . 

Notables,  petition  the  King  about  Protes- 
tants, 45;  establish  Provincial  Assem- 
blies, 212  ;  Sieyes  considers  them  useless, 
338  ;  their  work  merely  advisory,  387. 

Octrois,  their  operation,  226;  in  the  ca- 
hiers, 372. 

Offices,  at  court,  16 ;  judicial,  105  ;  mimici- 
pal,  181 ;  rural,  202  ;  sale  of  offices,  231. 

Officers.     See  Army. 

Orders,  three  in  France,  25.-  See  Clergy, 
Nobility.  Third  Estate. 

Orleans,  duke  of,  election  at  Chaumont, 
346. 

Orleans,  duchess  of,  and  the  Queen's  che- 
mise, 20. 

Osmont,  count  of,  his  peculiar  manners, 
77. 

Palais  Royal,  a  centre  of  gossip,  173 ;  the 
porticoes  and  shops  built,  332. 

Palissot,  his  comedy,  "The  Philosophers," 
67. 

Pamphlets,  enormous  number,  333;  sub- 
jects and  titles,  334,  394  ;  Sieyes's  "  What 
is  the  Third  Estate,"  33G. 

Paris,  importance,  size,  and  growth,  154 ; 
buildings  and  streets,  155 ;  dress,  159 ; 
food,  1G2;  classes  of  population,  164'. 
marriage  and  married  women,  165;  po- 
lice, 167 ;  hospitals  and  doctors,  168 ; 
foundlings,  religious  processions,  169 ; 
Sundays,  171 ;  the  ^-iaticum,  a  day  in 
Paris,  172  ;  public  opinion,  love  of  excite- 
ment, 325;  an  "awful  chasm,"  3t)5. 

Paris-Duvemey,  founds  the  military  school, 
86. 

Parlement  Mavprou,  its  unpopularity,  5  ; 
under  Louis  XV.,  104. 

Parliament  of  Paris,  trouble  under  Louis 
XV.,  restored  by  Louis  XVI.,  5;  refuses 
to  interftMo  in  behalf  of  Protestants,  44  ; 
condemns  Voltaire's  "  English  Letters," 
54  ;  composition,  origin,  political  powers, 
103;  legislation,  remonstrance,  bed  of 
justice,  struggle  with  tlie  church,  104 ; 
struggle  for  privileges,  venal  offices,  105  ; 
love  of  applause,  lOt! ;  administration  of 
justice,  Roman  and  Feudal  law,  107 ; 
condenmation  of  books,  115;  the  Encyclo- 
papdia,250,252;  Helvetius's  "de  I'EspVit," 
251  ;  worsliip  of  opinion,  324  ;  popular 
because  it  opposes  the  court,  329. 

Parliaments  browbeaten  by  Louis  XIV. 
and  dissolved  by  Louis  XV.,  4  ;  new 
courts  in  their  place,  104;  judges,  105. 


406 


INDEX. 


See  Courts  of  Law,  Law,  Parliament  of 
Paris,  Censorship. 
Patriotism  a  French  virtue,  380. 
Paulet,  the  edict  named  after  him,  231. 
Pays  d' Election,  described,  209. 
Pays  d'Etats,  209. 

Peasant,  La  Bruyere's  description,  186 ;  Dr. 
Rigby,  187 ;  A.  Yomig  and  others,  189 ; 
mode  of  life,  199 ;  political  rights,  201 ; 
chance  in  life,  204 ;  amusements,  205 ; 
comparative  condition,  206.  See  Coun- 
try, Farms,  Land,  Metayers,  Game, 
Roads,  Villages,  Feudal  tenures. 
Peers  of  France  sit  in  Parliament  of  Paris, 

103. 
Pensions  excessive,  238 ;   in  the  cahiers, 

366. 
"  Philadelphia  "  as  an  imprint  for  French 

books,  47  ;  name  of  a  cap,  160. 
Philosophers  of  the  18th  century,  propose 
to  reconstitute  society,  1 ;  ambiguity  of 
the  word  "Philosopher,"  48;  the  Phi- 
losophers form  a  sect,  49  ;  their  masters, 
56 ;  their  ideals,  119 ;  secured  equality 
for  Frenchmen,  122 ;  in  the  Encyclopae- 
dia, 259 ;  alarmed  by  Holbach,  270 ;  dif- 
ference between  them  and  Rousseau,  274, 
320 ;  struggle  for  simpUcity,  276 ;  their 
hold  on  the  public  mind,  322.  See  Vol- 
taire, Montesquieu,  Rousseau,  Diderot, 
Alembert,  Helvetius,  Holbach,  Chastel- 
lux,  Turgot,  Jaucourt,  Haller,  Condor- 
cet,  Condillac,  Sieyes,  Beaumarchais, 
Quesnay,  Gournay,  Hooker,  Bacon, 
Hobbes,  Newton,  Locke,  Descartes, Bayle, 
Grotius,  Howard,  Beccaria,  Atheism, 
Fatalism,  Democracy,  Equality,  Hedon- 
ism, Humanity,  Legislator,  Liberty,  Ma- 
terialism, Toleration,  Utility,  Encyclo- 
paedia, Physiocrats,  Clergy,  Catholic 
Church,  Monks,  Censorship,  Lefranc  de 
Pompignan,  Beaumont,  Chaudon,  Non- 
notte,  Freron,  Trublet,  Palissot,  Me- 
woiresde  Trevoux,  Malesherbes. 

Physiocrats,  their  doctrines,  233.  See  Ques- 
nay, Gournay. 

Place  de  la  Concorde,  or  Place  Louis  XV., 
execution  of  the  King  and  Queen  there, 
156. 

Plas;ue,  the,  and  precautions,  183. 

Police,  ite  nature,  116;  in  Paris,  167;  in 
France,  384. 

Polignac,  family  dependent  on  the  favor  of 
Marie  Antoinette,  14 ;  rapacious,  17. 

Political  Economy,  its  origin,  234;  Rous- 
seau in  the  Encyclopaedia,  292. 

Poll  tax  {capitation)  described,  219. 

Pompadour,  Mme.  de,  anecdote  concerning 
her  and  the  Encyclopaedia,  255. 

Poncins,  M.  de,  vi.,  395. 

Pope,  the,  Leo  X.  makes  the  Concordat, 
27 ;  election  of  the  pope,  40 ;  sneers  of 
Montesquieu,  128,  132. 

Pope,  Alexander,  associates  with  Voltaire, 
53. 

Post-office,  the  cahiers  ask  that  letters  be 
not  opened,  374. 

Pothier,  introduces  Roman  law,  108. 

Prescription,  as  a  ground  of  property,  361. 

Prime  minister,  the,  sits  in  the  coun- 
cils, 6. 

Princes  as  generals,  86. 


Princesses  of  the  Royal  Family  and  of  the 

Blood,  distinction,  19. 
Prisons,  filthy,  the  galleys,  110. 
Privileges,  of  the  Church  of  France,  27; 
Galilean  liberties,  37  ;  privileges  of  the 
nobility,  71 ;  of  the  magistrates,  efforts 
of  the  Parliament  of  Paris  in  behalf  of 
privileges,  105 ;  of  persons  and  bodies  in 
the  Third  Estate,  154 ;  of  municipal  offi- 
cers, 181 ;  of  persons  and  places  concern- 
ing taxation,  208  ;  privileges  attacked  by 
Sieyes,  336 ;  some  of  the  nobles  ready  to 
vote  with  the  other  orders  as  one  cham- 
ber on  questions  which  do  not  concern 
privileges,  .350  ;  privilege  and  property  in 
the  cahiers,  359;  readiness  to  abandon 
privileges  concerning  taxation,  363 ;  other 
privileges,  370.      See   Clergy,  Nobility, 
Feudal  tenures,  Equality, 
Privy  council,  6. 
Processions  in  Paris,  169. 
Progress,  material,  asserted  by  Chastellux, 
272 ;  more  noticeable  than  moral  prog- 
ress since  1789,  385. 
Progressive  taxation.     See  Taxes. 
Property,  how  regarded  in  the  cahiers,  359. 
Protestants,    their    precarious    condition, 
their  intolerance,  41 ;   gradual  adoption 
of  toleration,  42  ;  persecuted,  43 ;  meas- 
ures proposed   in  their  favor,  44;   civil 
status  granted  them,  46;   law  to  bring 
their  children  under  Catholic  teaching, 
183  ;  in  the  cahiers,  367.   See  Toleration. 
Provence,   Countess  of,   and  the  queen's 

chemise,  20. 
Provincial  Assemblies,  established  by  Nec- 
ker,   211  ;    and  by  the  Notables,   212 ; 
Sieyes  thinks  them  useless,  338  ;  the  ca- 
hiers demand  them,  355.     See  Lands  of 
Estates. 
Provincial  Estates.     See  Lands  of  Estates. 
Provincial  towns,  streets  and  houses,  175 ; 
dress,  a  thrifty  family,  177  ;    marriage, 
amusements,   178;    journeymen,  guilds, 
179  ;  masters,  business  education  of  wo- 
men, town  government,  181 ;    hospitals 
and  diseases,  182  ;  schools,  183  ;  changes 
in  the  national  life,  184. 
Prussia,  torture  restricted  there,  113 ;  com- 
pared with  France,  385. 
Public  opinion,  as  a  standard  of  right  and 
wrong,  324. 

Quack  doctors,  the  cahiers  ask  for  their 

suppression,  375. 
Quakers,  in  Voltaire's  "  English  Letters," 

54. 
Quesnay,  his  doctrines,  233;  the  halberd 

and  public  opinion,  324. 

Rambaud,  M.,  v.  395. 

Recruiting,  of  soldiers,  88. 

Remiremont,  wealth  of  the  chapter,  33. 

Rennes,  its  cahier  typical ;  asks  for  pro- 
gressive taxation,  3G5. 

Requetes,  cour  des,  103  n. 

Rigby,  Dr. ,  description  of  France,  187. 

Roads,  fine  but  little  traveled,  194. 

Rochambeau,  marquis  of,  praises  discipline 
of  his  troops  in  America,  95 ;  has  Chas- 
tellux with  him  there,  271. 

Bocquaiu,  M.,  vi.,  395. 


INDEX. 


407 


Rohan,  a  preat  family,  one  member  injures 
Marie  Antoinette,  14.     See  Chabot. 

Rouge,  in  the  Encyclopaedia,  25G  ;  proposed 
tax  on,  3G4. 

Rousseau,  Jean  Jacques,  may  rival  Voltaire 
in  influence,  51 ;  originality,  56 ;  ap- 
proves of  equality  of  condition,  120  ;  his 
opinion  of  Paris,  157  ;  praises  rural  life, 
187 ;  story  of  the  peasant  hiding  food, 
216 ;  Rousseau  an  opponent  of  tlie  new 
philosophy,  243 ;  contributes  to  the  En- 
cyclopaedia an  article  on  Political  Econ- 
omy, 250,  292;  sincerity  of  Rousseau, 
274  ;  the  "  Confessions,"  introspection 
and  religion,  275  ;  philosophy,  27G ;  sim- 
plicity, love  of  nature,  277  ;  early  life, 
278 ;  Mme.  de  Warens,  279  ;  Tiitirese  Le- 
vasseur,  280  ;  mode  of  life  and  character 
of  Rousseau,  sudden  inspiration,  the 
^^ First  Discourse,'''  degeneracy  of  man 
under  civilization,  281 ;  education  in  the 
"First  Discourse,"  284;  '■'■Second  Dis- 
course,-'' inequality,  285;  the  happy  sav- 
age, 286 ;  the  development  of  society, 
289  ;  Voltaire  on  the  "  Second  Discourse," 
291 ;  madness  of  Rousseau,  292  and  n.  ; 
the  '■^Social  Compact,''''  the  idea  not  ori- 
ginal, 293  ;  sovereignty,  295 ;  form  of 
government,  298 ;  an  official  religion, 
299  ;  equahty  in  tyranny,  301.  Fiction, 
Rousseau's  characters ;  the  "  New  He- 
Inisn,'''  sensation  caused  by  the  book, 
303 ;  sentimentality,  304 ;  the  country- 
house  and  the  garden,  305 ;  respectabil- 
ity, 307;  "£'7?ii7e,"  on  education,  con- 
formity to  nature,  307  ;  the  tutor,  308  ; 
a  lesson  on  the  origin  of  property,  309 ; 
the  hardening  process,  311 ;  Sophie  and 
female  education,  313  ;  religion,  the  Sa- 
voyard Curate,  314  ;  Rousseau's  quarrel 
with  the  Pliilosophers,  difference,  320  ; 
he  dares  to  oppose  public  opinion,  325 ; 
more  widely  read  on  account  of  the 
American  war,  332;  the  "Social  Com- 
pact "  taken  by  Sieyes  as  the  basis  of 
government,  338 ;  Rousseau's  reputa- 
tion European,  385.  See  American  In- 
dians. 

Royal  Chamber,  established  by  Louis  XV., 
104. 

Saint-Germain,  count  of,  minister  of  war, 
his  measures,  92. 

Sale  of  pubhc  offices,  231. 

Salons,  why  attractive,  75. 

Salt  tax  igabelle),  its  operation,  222;  in 
the  cahiers,  364. 

Saunderson,  Nicholas,  opinions  attributed 
to  him  by  Diderot,  248. 

Scherer,  M.,  vi.,396. 

School,  of  surgery  in  Paris,  168  ;  school  in 
provincial  towns,  183 ;  Marmontel  at 
school,  184  ;  country  schools,  204.  See 
Education. 

Schoolmasters,  boys  in  Paris  too  much  left 
to  them,  165 ;  in  towns  generally  ap- 
pointed by  the  clergy,  183 ;  in  villages 
paid  by  the  community,  201 ;  and  elect- 
ed, 202  •,  mode  of  life,  204. 

86gur,  count  of,  fond  of  adventure,  85  ; 
story  about  flogging,  93  ;  of  the  Calotte, 


S^gur,  viscount  of,  his  account  of  the  edu- 
cation of  a  young  nobleman,  73. 

Servants,  thieving,  might  be  executed.  111  ; 
proposed  tax,  364. 

Shopkeepers,  in  Paris,  1G5 ;  in  the  prov- 
inces, 176.     See  Guilds. 

Sieyes,  Abbo,  his  pamphlet,  "  "What  is  the 
Third  Estate,"  336  ;  draws  up  a  form  for 
a  cahier,  346. 

Smuggling,    how  regarded,   130 ;    of    salt, 

223  ;  between  France  and  England,  225. 
Social  compact,  the  idea  an  old  one,  Rous- 
seau's essay,  293. 

Socinians  in  Voltaire's  "  English  Letters," 
55. 

Socrates  and  ridicule,  283. 

Soldiers.     See  Army. 

Stourm,  M.,  v.,  396. 

Streets,  of  Paris,  157  ;  of  provincial  towns, 
175. 

Sub-delegates,  subordinate  to  intendants, 
10. 

Sulli,  duke  of,  refuses  to  take  up  Voltaire's 
quarrel  with  Chabot,  52. 

Sunday,  observed  in  Paris,  171  ;  in  the  ca- 
hiers, 307. 

Sunday  ladies,  at  court,  14. 

Surgeons.     See  Doctors,  Hospitals. 

Swift,  associates  with  Voltaire,  53. 

Swiss  of  the  rue  aux  Ours,  170. 

S^vitzerland,  its  government  compared  with 
that  of  France,  385. 

Syndic,  a  town  officer,  181 ;  a  village  offi- 
cer, paid  by  the  community,  201  ;  his 
functions,  202 ;  distributes  the  corvee 
among  the  peasants,  227. 

Taille,  the,  its  nature  and  operation,  213. 

Taine,  M.  Henri,  v.,  396;  his  figures  con- 
cerning taxation  considered,  228. 

Taxes,  paid  by  the  clergy,  27  ;  decimes,  36 ; 
amount  of  taxes  paid  by  the  nation,  207  ; 
unequally  assessed,  208  ;  Lands  of  Elec- 
tion and  Lands  of  Estates,  privileges, 
209  ;  Provincial  Assemblies,  211 ;  persons 
taxed  unequally,  direct  taxes,  taille,  213 ; 
twentieths,  218;  poll-tax,  219;  indirect 
taxes,  the  Farmers  General,  220;  salt 
tax,  222;    tobacco,  223;    excise,  duties, 

224  ;  internal  duties,  225  ;  corvee,  226 ; 
proportion  of  income  paid  in  taxes,  227  ; 
arbitrariness  and  publicity,  229 ;  in  the 
cahiers,  363;  luxuries,  364;  progressive 
taxation,  365 ;  incompetence  of  officials, 
384.  See  Decimes,  Tithe,  Farmers  Gen- 
eral. 

Terray,  Abb6,  his  contract  with  the  Farm- 
ers General,  220. 

Th^rese  Levasseur,  Rousseau's  mistress, 
280. 

Third  Estate,  one  of  the  three  orders,  25 ; 
variety  of  persons  included  in  it,  154 ; 
how  represented  in  Provincial  Estates, 
210;  and  in  Provincial  Assemblies,  211  ; 
Sieyes's  pamphlet,  "What  is  the  Third 
Estate,"  336;  elections  to  the  Estates 
General,  in  the  cahiers,  344  ;  desire  that 
the  Estates  General  meet  as  one  cham- 
ber, 350;  law  reform,  356;  abolition  of 
privilege  and  of  feudal  tlues,  359  ;  tithe, 
363 ;  equal  taxation,  3t>i ;  fewer  holi- 
days,  367  ;    free  and   responsible  press, 


408 


INDEX. 


Sr.O  -,  attitude  toward  the  nobility,  370 ; 
particular  wisfie.'!  of  tite  order,  freedom 
from  administrative  regulations,  com- 
merce, 372 ;  bankrupts,  suppression  of 
begging,  373 ;  public  workshops,  374 ; 
more  doctors,  375. 

Three  Bishoprics,  the,  how  taxed,  209; 
prefer  to  have  free  trade  with  Germany 
rather  than  with  France,  372  and  n. 

Tithes,  how  levied,  26  ;  in  the  cahiers,  363. 

Tobacco  in  common  use,  201 ;  monopoly, 
223  ;  snuff,  224  ;  in  the  cahiers,  364. 

Tocqueville,  M.  Alexis  de,  v.,  396. 

Toleration,  spreads  in  the  18th  century,  41. 
See  Protestants. 

Torture,  its  metliods,  110  ;  the  wheel,  111 ; 
protests ;  Beccaria,  112 ;  defense  of  tor- 
ture, 114;  preparatory  and  previous, 
abolition,  115. 

Towns.     See  Pans,  Provincial  Towns. 

Traites  (duties),  225. 

Trublet,  Abbe,  defends  the  church,  66. 

Tuileries,  palace  and  garden,  155. 

Turgot,  Anne  Robert  Jacques,  does  not 
remain  long  in  office,  17  ;  opposed  by  the 
queen,  24;  tries  to  induce  the  king  to 
modify  the  coronation  oath,  44 ;  makes 
him  promise  not  to  issue  acquits  de  comp- 
tant,  231  ;  life  of  Turgot,  235 ;  he  con- 
tributes to  the  Encyclopaedia,  250. 

Tuscany,  its  government  compared  with 
that  of  France,  385. 

Twentieths  {vingtieines),  218. 

Uniforms,  described,  89. 

United  States,  their  attachment  to  Mon- 
tesquieu's theory  of  the  division  of  pow- 
ers, 150  ;  their  constitutional  convention, 
353.     See  American  Colonies. 

Utility,  doctrine  of,  taught  by  Voltaire, 
64 ;  by  Helvetius,  261 ;  its  antiquity ; 
not  the  motive  but  the  test  of  morals, 
263  n. ;  taught  by  Holbach,  268.  See 
Hedonism,  Philosophers. 

Vassy,  Mme.  de,  and  her  snuff-box,  77. 

Vaudreuil,  Count  of,  the  "Marriage  of 
Figaro  "  played  at  his  house,  329. 

Venalite  des  charges,  231. 

Venice,  the  liberty  of  debauchery,  137 ; 
one  of  Montesquieu's  models  for  an  aris- 
tocratic republic,  145,  149  n. 

Vcrgeunes,  Count  of,  retains  his  office,  17  ; 


induces  France  to  make  war  on  Englan5, 
331. 

Villages,  194;  political  rights,  201.  See 
Peasant,  Country. 

Villein  service.     See  Corvee. 

Vingtieme,  droit  de,  distinguished  from 
vingtiemes,  218,  n. 

Vingtiemes,  their  operation,  218. 

Voltaire,  tlie  clergy  demand  the  suppres- 
sion of  his  works,  28  ;  on  toleration,  42  ; 
chiefly  an  enemy  of  the  church ;  his 
early  history,  51 ;  quarrel  with  Chabot, 
52  ;  stay  in  England,  53 ;  "  English  Let- 
ters,"  Quakers,  French  and  English 
priests,  54 ;  Socinians,  55 ;  Voltaire  a 
popularizer  of  thought,  56 ;  his  eulogy  of 
Locke,  60  ;  his  philosophy,  61  ;  hatred  of 
the  clergy,  and  of  the  supernatural,  62 ; 
his  religious  opinions,  63;  he  opposes 
torture,  112 ;  La  Barre,  114 ;  imprisoned 
by  Lettre  de  cachet,  117 ;  said  to  have 
procured  a  lettre  de  cachet,  117,  325 ;  his 
story  of  Montesquieu  and  Cardinal  de 
Fleury,  135 ;  he  is  often  led  astray  by 
ignorance  of  foreign  nations,  144  ;  thinks 
the  French  peasants  well  off,  187  ;  con- 
tributes to  the  Encyclopaedia,  250 ;  tells 
an  anecdote  about  it,  255;  correspond- 
ence with  d'Alembert  about  it,  260  ;  an- 
swers Holbach's  "  System  of  Nature," 
270 ;  a  great  liar,  274  ;  interested  in  ex- 
ternal matters,  275;  letter  to  Rousseau 
on  the  "Second  Discourse,"  291 ;  quar- 
rel with  Rousseau,  320;  more  widely 
read  on  account  of  the  American  war, 
332  ;  his  reputation  European,  385. 

Wages,  in  the  provinces,  179. 
Warens,  Mme.  de,  279.     See  Rousseau. 
Wheel,  the,  punishment  described.  111. 
Women.     See  Marriage,  Married  women, 

Education,  Poiisseau  (Sophie). 
Workshops,  public,  asked  for  in  a  cahier, 

374. 

Young,  Arthur,  his  opinion  of  Paris,  157  ; 
his  description  of  treading  out  the  corn, 
189;  on  the  revenue  of  arable  land, 
192  n.  ;  clear  accounts  of  French  finances 
not  to  be  expected,  207  n.  ;  taxes  in  Eng- 
land and  in  France,  208. 

Young,  Edward,  writes  an  epigram  on  Vol- 
taire, 53. 


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